When Sorrows Come
by Amandah Leigh
Summary: Hermione Granger is 2x divorced, 3x a mother, hiding a shameful secret, and falling apart. Severus Snape fell apart 10yrs ago when the war ended but self-imposed solitude is taking its toll. When she puts an anonymous ad in the Prophet offering "almost anything" for 10 Galleons an hour, Severus wonders if the insufferable know-it-all might be exactly what he needs...
1. Though This Be Madness

**Detailed Description:**

Hermione Granger is twice divorced, three times a mother, hiding a shameful secret, and falling apart.

Severus Snape fell apart a decade ago when the war ended, but self-imposed solitude is taking its toll.

Out of sheer desperation, Hermione sets aside her dignity and puts an anonymous ad in the Daily Prophet offering to do "almost anything" for 10 Galleons an hour. This is a last resort, but one she is unable to avoid, thanks to a series of devastating events over which she had no control.

After intercepting it at the newspaper office, Severus, who has been living with pain both physical and emotional for all these years since she saved him from certain death, begins to wonder if the insufferable know-it-all might be exactly what he needs to help him rejoin the land of the living.

But when an old enemy threatens to break them apart before they've even managed to come together, and with a second pressing danger looming on the horizon, suddenly much more than just their shaky, blossoming friendship is at stake.

* * *

 **BASICS:**

A Severus Snape/Hermione Granger story-

With multiple plotlines that weave into one.

Featuring Lucius/Narcissa Malfoy, Minerva McGonagall, ex-husband Ron, Portrait Dumbledore, Luna/Rolf, Delphini Black, original characters.

Also featuring Draco/Astoria, Bellatrix/Voldemort (in flashback), Lily Potter (in flashback), Harry/Ginny, and brief appearances by several canon others.

A complex Romance/Smut and Hurt/Comfort fic with dark themes/undertones and a bit of Mystery, for MATURE readers only.

Rated M for sexual content (incl. lemons), violence, emotional abuse, and adult language. Don't expect in-chapter Trigger Warnings.

Canon/original series compliant save for Severus' still being alive (ignoring the DH epilogue), with elements from Cursed Child & Fantastic Beasts woven in.

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE**

 **Though this be madness, yet there is method in it.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

It wasn't the most degrading thing she'd ever had to lower herself to do, but damn, it was close.

 _Talented witch, 28, in dire financial straits, seeking employment. Will do almost anything for 10 Galleons per hour, flexible schedule necessary. In good health, physically fit, reasonably attractive, highly capable. Past experience in multiple relevant positions. Discretion expected._

If she were applying for any respectable job, this short cover letter, minus the last two words, would merely be shamefully pathetic and poorly phrased. But she wasn't applying for a respectable job. She was placing an ad in the Daily Prophet's Age-Restricted Personals Column. Though she was not, by nature, the type to worry about what others thought of her, she ran her fingers anxiously through her tangled mane while awaiting the response of the Daily Prophet clerk seated on a tall stool behind the counter under a sign reading ADVERTISEMENTS.

He read it, looked her over as if bemused, and read it again.

"Well?" she asked, impatient. "Will you print it?"

"It's weird," said the incredibly unhelpful clerk. He was perhaps twenty, as gawky as Stan Shunpike, as fair-haired as Draco Malfoy, and as utterly tactless and freckly as Ron Weasley.

Damn it. Bloody hell.

Fuck.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes.

It still hurt her heart to think of her first husband, not because she regretted their divorce, but because of how things had turned out since. He had a devoted wife, a healthy baby, a great job, and, no stranger to the post-war spotlight, he was still riding the fame wave to Ministry galas and exclusive parties. Though she was glad they were no longer together – she'd long ago come to terms with the fact that they weren't right for each other, as some childhood romances are meant to be confined to childhood – she couldn't help but feel a sharp twinge of jealously when she thought about how well his life was going… and how quickly her own was going down in flames.

"If you're looking for a job, you should put an ad in the Help Wanted section," the clerk said, twirling the long curl of his ridiculous blond goatee as he spoke. "Help Wanted section's not restricted. More people will see it. Makes more sense there."

"Thank you, but I want it in the Personals," she said without affectation. "I want it restricted."

"No offense, but this makes you sound like a prostitute, ma'am." He continued to twirl, which made her want to reach up to his chin and tear the damn thing off in frustration. "You sure you wanna word it like this?"

"I've given considerable thought to the wording," she snapped as a second wizard, with a badge reading _Editor: Advertisements_ , came up beside the first to check over her words. More witches and wizards were filing into the office now; she could hear them behind her, chatting, whistling, waiting in line. Wanting to make a quick escape, she quickly asked the editor, "How much to place it?"

"For half an hour's worth of backbreaking work, I'll let you run it for free," smirked the editor. "I can transfigure my desk into a cot."

"Five galleons, then?" she asked, taking the money out of her coin purse as if he hadn't just insinuated in front of an office full of people that she should pay in sex rather than money. "That seems like a bit much for a tiny ad."

"Three sickles," said the first wizard, apparently oblivious to what had just transpired despite his earlier warning about her wording. "Five galleons! Could you imagine? We'd only have to run a couple of ads every issue if we charged those prices, eh, boss?"

Without comment, she paid the clerk, shot a look of disgust in the direction of his still-smirking editor, turned on her heel, and stalked from the newspaper office, trying to hold onto her last shred of dignity.

She was so intent on blocking out the world around her just long enough to get home without crying, she hardly registered the existence of the man she bumped into upon her swivel. He scowled, as she neither acknowledged her rudeness nor apologized for it. He also fell back slightly, as this was the first physical human contact he'd felt in years (aside from that of his visiting nurse, who popped in every six months to make certain he was still alive) and it strangely pained him. Who was he kidding? It wasn't strange. _Everything_ pained him. It had been a decade already and he was still in pain, a constant reminder of what he'd survived. He rubbed the sore spot on his arm, envisioning the bruise that would be appearing there later, and mentally cursed her name.

Then he cut the queue, stalked up to the newspaper counter, and snapped his fingers to get the attention of the idiotic advertisements section employee.

"That woman," he said, jerking his head toward the exit. "The one who just left. Might I see her ad?"

"What for?" asked the goatee-twirling employee with mild suspicion.

"I know her," said the man. "We're old… friends." This was a lie, but not the sort that would make one feel remorseful. It was a little white lie, like _Sure, that dress looks nice on you dear,_ or _Of course I'm grateful you saved me from death by possessed snake._ "I overheard your conversation and worry my… friend… is making a grave mistake."

"She certainly is! Look at this. She must not be much of a writer!" The wiry employee slipped the parchment across the counter to the formidable looking man in black, whom he thought looked vaguely familiar, but could not readily place. "She wants to put an ad for employment in the Personals but it makes her sound like a… well… you know."

"I'll pay for it," said the man. His face showed no emotion, but he tugged his thick black cloak more tightly around his body as he spoke, giving the impression of a bat curling up inside his wings for the night. "How much?"

"What do you mean?"

"I will pay to pull the advertisement. Do not run it. I intend to speak with her about its contents first." This was, of course, another lie, but less of a little white one. "How much?"

"Uh… a galleon?" The advertisement was already paid for and typically if one were pulled before going to print the person who'd placed it would get their money back, not pay, but the clerk figured he could use a little extra gold.

The man in black placed one galleon into the open, waiting palm of the clerk, who then handed the man the parchment on which she'd written the ad.

The man did not say thank you. He merely slipped the parchment into the pocket of his robes, turned on his heel as the woman had, and stalked out of the newspaper office, having completely neglected to do what he'd gone there to do – place his own Help Wanted ad.

In the Personals column.

* * *

 **A/N:**

So… this is completely unlike my other recent fics. It's also my first time really writing Severus Snape/Hermione Granger (Sevmione?) aside from "Man of Her Dreams," which I wrote many years ago when I was young and silly. This is nothing like that.

Thanks for reading. Reviews always appreciated.

 **–AL**


	2. That it Should Come to This

**CHAPTER TWO**

 **That it should come to this!**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Though she appreciated the extra anonymity, Hermione Granger Weasley Park hated the way the Daily Prophet's Restricted Personals column worked. She could tap her wand to the parchment and speak the words that would reveal its contents, but as a witch, she could view only ads placed by witches or wizards seeking witches, presumably set up that way to keep those with cheating spouses from recognizing their husband or wife in an ad, but in her case it meant she was unable to see her own, or to compare it to those of other witches seeking wizards unless she could have a wizard make it available to her. She wasn't exactly in the position to ask any wizards she knew to help her out in that regard, thus she spent a week wondering whether it had run, and in the time that passed, she could only sit idly, twiddle her damn thumbs, and wait for responses.

Merlin, she hoped there would be responses.

And yet, at the same time, part of her hoped there wouldn't.

She sighed, setting down her tea, ignoring her breakfast of dry toast. She sighed again, more deeply this time.

How the fuck had she reached this point? She was Hermione Fucking Granger, for fuck's sake. The brightest fucking witch of her age. One third of the Golden Fucking Trio, three teenagers who'd worked together to bring about the defeat of the darkest wizard since, well, ever. What the fuck happened to her promising fucking future?

"Fuck!" she said aloud, slamming her hand down on top of the open Prophet. Across from her at the kitchen table, a pink-cheeked, fluffy haired miniature version of Hermione lowered her early reader and raised her eyebrows.

"Mummy, that's a bad word."

"I know, Love, I'm sorry," said Hermione, reaching out to pat her five-year-old daughter's hand. "Mummy's just… sleepy."

"Fuck seepy!" shouted the little boy seated beside the fluffy haired girl. He giggled, knowing he'd just discovered a new expletive, and wondered whether it was worse than "Bastard," a word his mother only seemed to say when muttering under her breath about his long-gone father. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

"Henry Granger!" Even though it sounded more like "buck" when he said it, she scolded him for his naughty intention, using the boy's new (legal) last name. "Say that again and I'll take your toast away!"

It was the worst she could threaten. She didn't believe in spanking and he didn't have any toys to lose or a bedroom to be sent to. He didn't even have his own bed. They had one double bed and one crib in the room they shared and that was enough for the tiny little family of four.

The youngest Granger offspring, the one who slept in the crib, didn't seem to be paying her family any mind. She was busy picking at shredded bits of buttered toast with jam, having never tried anything quite the consistency of jam before, and generally getting more of it on her face and in her hair than in her mouth. She was a year old, fourteen months to be precise, and had only recently made the switch from breast milk, thin rice crackers, and pureed baby food to a diet that more closely resembled that of her two older siblings.

Henry Granger, age three, did not apologize for his use of this powerful new word, but he did settle down and take a bite of his toast, happy to have jam for the first time in weeks.

Jam was both expensive and unnecessary, and Hermione rarely spent money on anything that was either. But she felt her ad would surely result in a bit of extra income soon, thus she could justify the splurge. Plus it made her feel less guilty about what she had decided to do. Someday she could tell the children, "I'm sorry Mummy had to whore herself out in order to feed you, but no child should have to go weeks without jam."

The very notion of this made the contents of her stomach swirl.

She'd placed the ad, but could she really make good on it? Doing "almost anything" for ten galleons an hour? Who knows what kind of wizard would answer such an inquiry? Certainly not the type she'd be willing to bed under usual circumstances.

Careful not to say a word aloud, she cursed the very existence of her now-dead ex-husband, her _second_ ex-husband, the man she'd stupidly started seeing while 'on the rebound,' the one who'd gotten her into this mess in the first place, the man who'd so completely ruined her life, forcing her into a situation in which she'd have to behave entirely out of character – no, that wasn't true. Considering the past two years, she wasn't sure she could consider this out of character. She wasn't sure who her character was anymore. She'd long ago lost the person she'd been for six years at Hogwarts, on the run during what should have been her seventh year, and even directly after, when she became famous (not by choice), married Ron (a stupid choice), and subsequently divorced him (her last good choice).

"Are you sad, Mummy?" asked eldest daughter Helena, who was as inquisitive and intuitive as her mother had been as a child. "You don't look sleepy, you look sad."

Hermione shook her head – a little white lie – and tried to smile. "Only lost in thought, Love. Don't you worry. Eat your toast. I bought blueberry jam because I know it's your favorite."

Helena smiled, momentarily placated, and turned her attention not to her breakfast but back to her book. Hermione couldn't help but smile genuinely at this. The girl truly was her mother's child.

"Fuck!" shouted Henry, having finished his toast and therefore having nothing to lose. He tossed his plate over his head and it landed on the floor behind him with a crash, sending shards of ceramic flying in all directions, which scared the baby and made her wail. Henry dissolved into giggles.

"Damn it, Henry!" Hermione rarely lost her patience with the children, but lately, the increasingly defiant toddler seemed determine to try her.

"Dam it, Henwy!" he repeated, throwing up his pudgy hands in triumph. Another new word! "Dam it!"

Meanwhile, far from the London flat where Hermione was holed up with her brood, Severus Snape paced the sitting room in his family's home on Spinner's End. He hated it there, but back when he was a professor with little money it wasn't as if he could pack up and relocate to better accommodations, and now that he had a bit of money, thanks to a surprising sum bequeathed to him by Albus Dumbledore (presumably as a thank you for killing him at the possible expense of his soul) moving away from a place so isolated from the rest of the wizarding world didn't seem like a priority.

Owning this home hadn't been so bad when he was working at Hogwarts in some respects, though. Namely because he rarely returned to the house, save for over summer holiday, and when he did he was typically too busy to sit around remembering what it was like growing up there, listening to his father berate and beat his mother, wondering if tonight would be the night he killed her, wondering why she didn't use her wand to fight back.

But in the half-decade since his release from the St. Mungo's affiliated convalescent home where he'd spent five years in recovery, he'd had more than enough time to sit and think. He couldn't do much more than sit and think. For the first year he was home, the visiting nurse came daily. For the second year, three times a week. For the third, once a week. For the fourth, twice monthly. And finally, he was cleared to only see her once every six months. His most recent six month visit had been in May, uncomfortably close to the ten year anniversary of the Battle at Hogwarts, when he'd been attacked by the snake and nearly lost his life.

How many times since then had he wished he'd just lost his life?

But no. That insufferable Granger girl had seen fit to bloody _save_ him. As if he wanted to be saved! She hadn't even asked him, hadn't even considered the possibility that he'd welcome death after nearly twenty years of knowing he deserved it. And he'd been suffering ever since.

At his trial – yes, they'd still put him on trial, even after Potter vouched for him, even after the entire Wizengamot had seen his memories in the Pensieve, much to his great humiliation – he'd had to testify on his own behalf. She'd been there in the courtroom, in the section reserved for viewers granted special permission to attend, seated between the Weasley boy and Potter himself. Severus had done the appropriate thing and briefly expressed gratitude for her heroic efforts, though, frankly, it had nearly killed him to do so. Two near-death experiences in as many months.

He'd been a recluse since, refusing visitors (Potter included) while in recovery, and not revealing his whereabouts to the greater wizarding world since returning home. Of course, he couldn't be completely solitary. Without a house elf to shop for him, he still had to make occasional trips to Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, or Knockturn Alley, though he bought as much as he could from either the local Muggle grocery store or via Owl order. And he'd had a few guests to his home, most notably the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shackelbolt, who needed his signature on some stupid silly form, current Hogwarts Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, who wanted to "check in," and fellow former Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, who'd been spared prison time and couldn't believe his old friend had truly defied – and fooled! – the Dark Lord for over eighteen years.

A whopping three visitors in five years. My, he certainly was as popular after the war as he'd been during his days as a student at Hogwarts.

As he paced the sitting room of his home today, though, he wasn't thinking about his rotten childhood or the Battle at Hogwarts or even Lily. He was thinking about the bit of parchment burning a figurative hole in the pocket of his robe. He'd ensured creeps and perverts wouldn't be answering Miss Granger's disturbing ad, and while he felt he'd done the right thing (what the bloody hell had she been _thinking_?!) he also felt the slightest twinge of guilt. She shouldn't have to whore herself out to whomever was willing to pay, but clearly she needed the money or she wouldn't have lowered herself to placing the ad in the first place. He was curious, of course, about what circumstances had put the brilliant but insufferable overachiever in that position… and, owing to the Slytherin in him, he was also vaguely wondering whether it could work to his advantage.

He sighed, feeling like a letch for even considering it, and threw himself down on the couch. Which hurt. Though it had been a decade it still hurt to 'throw' his body anywhere. He sighed again, more deeply this time.

He was lonely, frankly put. Years of self-imposed solitude, while preferable to regularly facing the public, had its downside. Without his nurse visiting regularly, he was starting to talk to himself, which made him worry he was beginning the slow descent into madness that had taken his mother. He didn't need a good shag as much as he needed a stimulating conversation – not that he would turn down a good shag should the opportunity present itself.

He was lonely.

She needed money.

He had money.

Perhaps…

Resigning himself to doing something he never would have even remotely contemplated prior to seven days ago, he stood, hurried to his desk as quickly as he was able, pulled out a sheet of parchment, and dipped his quill in the inkwell.

He was lonely.

She needed money.

He had money.

Perhaps this could work out for the both of them.


	3. Cruel Only to be Kind

**CHAPTER THREE**

 **I must be cruel only to be kind.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

ONE response. ONE. ONE in ten days. How could this be? Were there really no other wizards in the entire wizarding world willing to spend a handful of galleons for an hour with a fit, attractive, capable witch?

She read and reread the response she held in her trembling hands.

 _Desperate Witch,_

 _I am intrigued by your posting in the Daily Prophet. I believe I have a position – or two – that you could sufficiently fill, if you are so inclined. The work may be physically taxing, but not unreasonably backbreaking. Expect your initial session to last two hours, as it is no small task. Preferably, this would morph into a twice weekly commitment, as I have a number of basic needs that have gone unmet over the last several years and I am finding it increasingly difficult to handle related matters on my own. Meet me at my home address (below) at or after 3pm on Thursday to further discuss the details, and, if an agreement can be made, to begin your tenure in my employ. The possibility of additional compensation for additional work shall also be discussed at that time. Be advised that I, too, require the utmost discretion, as I am a man who values his privacy above all else._

 _Equally Desperate Wizard_

"What?" she said aloud, stopping just short of adding, "the fuck?"

"Who sent a letter, Mummy?" asked Helena, hoping whatever it was, it had brought good news. It had been such a long time since anybody brought them good news.

"No one you know, Love," said Hermione. She shoved the parchment in her pocket and picked up her little duplicate. "What do you say we try to plait your hair today? It's everywhere."

"I suppose," the girl replied reluctantly. She hated having her thick, bushy brown hair brushed or braided, but if it would make Mummy happy, she'd bite her tongue. She trailed after her mother from the kitchen table to the stained, threadbare coffee-colored couch in the adjoining sitting room. She settled on the floor atop two bright blue throw pillows with her back against the couch and waited for Mummy to sit behind her with the brush, comb, elastics, and her wand.

Hermione gathered these things from the tiny loo off the hall across from the bedroom where Henry and the baby were taking their afternoon naps and headed back to the sitting room. Considering the small size of the one floor, two room flat (the kitchen and sitting room were one, really) this took no time at all. She sank into the old couch, the first big purchase she and Ron had made upon moving into their rented flat together, just days after their fairy tale style wedding. For months that was all the furniture they had – a couch in the sitting room, and a bed, gifted to them by an eccentric old aunt of Arthur's, in the bedroom.

Ron had been in the paper that morning. Not the front page, but in the society section. A moving black and white image of him with his arm around Lavender Brown greeted Hermione over breakfast, causing her to lose her appetite. Ron was positively beaming, in love with all the attention, and Lavender, despite having lost most of the pregnancy weight, had not lost her pregnancy glow, which rendered the scars from her werewolf attack nearly unnoticeable. According to the accompanying article the image had been captured at the wedding of fellow war hero-turned-professor Neville Longbottom and Hogwarts alum Hannah Abbot.

There was a photograph of the happy couple, too, in simple but attractive traditional wedding attire, flanked by Harry Potter himself and his wife, Ginny, who looked about to burst. Hermione figured their second child must be due any day. James Sirius, the Potters' elder son, was just a few months younger than Hermione's Henry. If she were still close with Harry and Ginny, perhaps the boys would be friends, but as they had drifted apart during her second marriage, the little tykes had only met a couple of times.

Hermione had been invited to Abbott-Longbottom wedding too, of course, but with no one to watch the children and no money for decent dress robes and no desire to travel from London to Scotland, it had been better to decline. She scraped a little of what was left from the sale of her husband's home to send a gift, though. No sense in letting the world know she couldn't afford to adhere to this simple polite custom, even though the truth was that it meant a week without fresh vegetables for herself and the children.

For perhaps the thousandth time since placing that ad, she battled the green-eyed monster of jealousy, while mentally cursing out her dead second ex-husband.

"You didn't want that," she reminded herself. "You hated the fame. You hated being followed around by paparazzi. You hated being constant fodder for Daily Prophet gossip columns. That's not the life you wanted."

No, the life she wanted had been career-oriented. She saw herself moving up through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with bi-annual promotions, with a goal of being named Minister for Magic by age thirty-five. She was now three months away from twenty-nine and woefully unemployed. It seemed that goal would go unmet.

It was three in the afternoon on Tuesday in late June.

In forty-eight hours time, Hermione would be heading to the home of this mystery wizard to… discuss the details of the position. She shuddered. She was nothing if not pragmatic, though, thus she began working out details in her head as she attempted to tame her daughter's wild mane.

 _She would provide contraceptive potion, should his desires mean it would be prudent._

 _Nothing that would leave her with bruises or other potentially disfiguring marks would be acceptable._

 _He was also not to choke her, bite her, hit her, or pull her hair._

 _She would, however, do any of those things to him if so desired._

 _Half of the money would need to be paid up front and the other half at the end of the hour, no exceptions._

 _No photographs would be taken. No witnesses would be permitted._

 _He would have to sign a charmed agreement not to disclose the nature of their business with anyone at any time for any reason._

Damn it.

Her eyes welled with furious tears again and she twisted the strands of Helena's hair into a tight French braid. The little girl clenched her teeth and closed her eyes, hating this process. Hermione did her best to be gentle, as she'd always dreaded it as a child when her mother wanted to do the same to her hair, but there was something oddly therapeutic about it – for the braider, not the braid-ee.

There had been a time, not so very long ago, when her ultimate career goal seemed it would be easily met. She was on the right track at the Ministry, connecting with the right people, succeeding at every task her demanding bosses placed in front of her, going above and beyond, not for the recognition, but for the sheer joy of knowing she'd done well.

She was divorced by age twenty-one, which was not ideal, but it was absolutely for the best, and she'd genuinely meant it when she'd wished Ron the best at the end of the dissolution of vows. Ron, she was certain, held no ill will toward her over it, and Hermione was glad he'd found happiness with Lavender, though she wished he hadn't started seeing the fellow former Gryffindor while they were still married. Harry had been disappointed at first, as their divorce meant the Golden Trio were not going to be raising their future children as cousins, though he got over it.

But Ginny?

Ginny hadn't been able to forgive. Even though Ron was the one that cheated, it had been Hermione who pushed for the divorce, and Ginny reacted by pulling away, becoming distant. Harry followed suit, though Hermione wasn't sure even he realized he'd done so, and it wasn't long before she found herself rather alone.

Then, she met Reginald Park.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, Love?"

"Can we go to the playground today?"

"Certainly." Hermione twisted an elastic around the finished braid. Helena stood, stretched, then climbed into her mother's lap. "When the little ones wake up, we'll have a small snack, then head out." It would have to be a _very_ small snack. They were running low on bananas and apples again and she rarely wasted money on sweets.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, Love?"

"You're my favorite mummy."

Hermione laughed and wrapped her arms around the precocious five-year-old. Helena always knew just what to say to put a smile back on her mother's face.

"I'm glad. Guess what?"

"What?"

"You're my favorite Helena."

Helena giggled. "That's silly!"

Hours later, long after dark, Hermione's reply reached Severus Snape. Her Owl pecked at his bedroom window until he dragged himself from bed to open it and the demanding creature nipped him, drawing blood, when he failed to promptly reward it for its efforts.

 _Sir,_

 _I am available at precisely three on Thursday and will apparate to your address to further discuss with you your proposition. I will bring with me a list of rules to which you will need to agree, including a confidentiality agreement you must sign. Half of my payment must be given up front with the other half to follow at the end of two hours._

It was not signed.

He folded it, placed it in the top drawer of the writing desk in his bedroom, and scratched his chin. He'd done a bit of research on her since sending his 'job offer.' He hadn't found much. She'd married Ron Weasley and gotten divorced, which seemed smart, then married a man named Reginald Park and gotten divorced. That much was public record. She'd also left her position at the Ministry of Magic without citing a reason or giving the customary two weeks notice, which was curious, and she was rumored to be living in or near London. She hadn't been mentioned in the society pages in well over two years, and when she last was it was because she had attended a work function where she'd been photographed chatting with Weasley and Potter, run with the caption "Golden Trio: Reunited At Last."

A special issue of the Daily Prophet printed last month for the ten year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts included a Where Are They Now? section, but under her name, which was printed beside a small, several years old photograph, it said simply, "Hermione Granger, the brains of Potter's operation who orchestrated the break in at Gringotts bank, stepped out of the spotlight years ago and has declined to be interviewed for this article."

Under his own name, it had read, "Former Headmaster and Potions Professor Severus Snape is believed to still be recovering from the effects of the poisoned snake bite. He could not be reached before press time."

Harry Potter (with Ginny), Ron Weasley (with Lavender), and even humble Neville Longbottom (without Hannah) had all agreed to be interviewed, thus theirs were the faces splashed across the front page, as were those of two suspected Death Eaters inexplicably cleared of wrongdoing, Draco and Lucius Malfoy, who had also both refused to give comment.

Severus Snape wouldn't admit it, but he was nervous about what would happen on Thursday. What would she say upon sight of him? How would she react to the realization he'd offered to pay her for her time? What would she consider acceptable – would she even bother to hear him out?

He returned to bed but could not sleep. He reached for the Prophet on his bedside table, turning to the picture of her taken two years ago. Ignoring the faces of Potter and Weasley, he concentrated on Granger. She was still slender, but she'd developed hips and breasts since he'd last seen her (not that he'd been looking…). Her bushy hair was pulled back into a French braid that showed off her shoulders and she was wearing dress robes with a neckline lower than he would have envisioned her comfortable in.

On more than one occasion when she was his student he'd referred to her as an insufferable know-it-all, at least once to her face. He wondered whether she remembered that, whether she'd hold it against him. It was true, though. She _was_ a know-it-all. As a professor, he'd found her over-enthusiasm and frequent hand-raising insufferable, as she often reminded him of an attention-starved Golden Retriever, desperate for a pat on the head, wanting nothing more than to be told, "Good job," then reacting to praise not with gratitude but with a smug smile – she'd known when she'd done a good job. That was the most infuriating part.

However, she'd grown and matured, and by her sixth year, when he was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, she no longer thrust her hand in the air with such exuberance. Rather, she responded with confidence, and, on occasion, with what he perceived as annoyance directed toward her dunderhead peers – how could they not understand the lessons? (And how did _no one else_ discern that Remus Lupin was a damn werewolf?! It was right there on page 394!)

The quality of her work had always been remarkably high, and he'd actually enjoyed reading her essays, even if she did tend to extend beyond the required word count, thus creating more work for him in the grading process. She'd done well on her O.W.L.s fifth year, then, despite missing an entire year's education, she returned to sit for her N.E.W.T.s and did impressively well on those too – the news of her high scores was printed in the Prophet, something he ordinarily would have looked right past, but as it was the first issue he'd read since awakening from the coma he'd been placed in shortly after testifying on his own behalf in front of the Wizengamot, he remembered every word.

Less than forty-eight hours later, Severus again paced the floor of his sitting room at the home on Spinner's End. She was due any second. He smoothed his shoulder-length black hair and glanced in the mirror. He wondered whether he looked as foreboding and sullen as he had when they'd last spoken, and whether that would matter. He was wearing black, as usual, but not the button up robes of a decade ago. He was much more comfortable these days in a plain cotton tee-shirt, Muggle trousers, and an open black wizards robe made of the softest jackalope skin. Comfort was key, since even the gentlest pressure against his skin caused him twinges of pain. He had spritzed on the slightest bit of subtle cologne, but now felt silly for having done so. This wasn't a date, after all. He had no reason to try to impress her. Either she'd accept the terms he intended to offer or she wouldn't, and he suspected her decision would be made based on whether she deemed money or her pride as more important, not based on how good he smelled or whether his hair was smooth.

There was a knock at the door.

His breath hitched in his throat.

He waved his wand, making the front door open of its own accord.

"Enter," he called. He could hear her footsteps in the hall. They were slow. Tentative. She wasn't as sure of herself as she'd seemed when placing the ad. He waved his wand again, closing the door.

"In here." His low, baritone voice directed her toward the sitting room. She entered. Though his primary goal for this first meeting (aside from convincing her not to run away) was to avoid staring at her lecherously, he couldn't help glancing from her neck to her feet and back up again.

She was wearing a simple summer dress, polka dots of pale yellow over virgin white, nearly knee-length, with a halter top. She wasn't quite as curvy as she'd been in the Prophet photo - the dress hang off her a little, especially around the middle. Perhaps she was not adept at the charms witches typically used to ensure their clothes fit their frames perfectly. Or perhaps she'd lost a lot of weight in a little time and hadn't yet adjusted her wardrobe to match her new shape. Her smooth, surprisingly tanned legs were bare and on her feet were white and yellow sandals with a low heel. It was a lovely outfit, the type one would wear for a Sunday picnic, not for a filthy tryst with a presumed stranger. It made him feel at once vindicated in his decision to pull her ad and guilty for having answered it.

His penetrating gaze met hers.

"Miss Granger," he said smoothly, inclining his head, as if they'd run into each other in the market or the hall at Hogwarts, as if this were no odd occurrence, as if she hadn't gotten his attention by promising "Almost anything" for ten galleons an hour. "I trust you're well?"

He raised an eyebrow, awaiting her response.

Pale cheeks flushed. Pink lips parted. Brown eyes widened.

"Prof… Professor Snape?"

* * *

 **A/N: I know I promised updates every Monday and some Thursdays, but I am excited about the next chapter (4) thus I wanted to get this one out there sooner rather than later. Thanks for the follows, faves, and reviews! –AL**


	4. As Easy As Lying

**CHAPTER FOUR**

 **It is as easy as lying.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Hermione stood frozen in the doorway to the sitting room as if she'd been placed in a full body bind. Her eyes swept around the room, taking in the dark, muted colors of the wood floor, the chocolate brown drapes, the mahogany walls, the black leather couch, and the grey-blue throw pillows, before settling on his face, a face she had not looked upon in a decade.

"You…" she began, willing herself to appear calm as her mind raced, fighting an internal battle of fight or flee. "You answered my ad?"

"I did indeed," Severus replied coolly. He did not move, did not dare, figuring any sudden motion might alarm her, might make her run for the door. Despite the awkwardness of these first moments, his desperation for human contact had him nearly terrified she would leave. He could not let her be privy to this, though. He could not allow her to know she was, in fact, the one with the upper hand.

"You answered my ad." She said it as if she needed to hear it aloud again in order to believe it. "But… why?"

He sneered. "Why do you think?"

She couldn't hold his gaze, choosing instead to focus on the floorboards. "I… okay…but if… I don't… If you… And I…"

"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?"

"Ms." She bristled as his use of 'miss,' as it brought with it both the unpleasant reminder that this solicitor was no stranger and the suggestion of a youthful innocence she no longer possessed. Having made this clarification seemed to give her an odd boost of bravado. "I am not a child sitting politely in your Potions classroom awaiting instruction, Professor Snape. You shall address me as 'Ms. Granger.'"

"Very well, _Ms_. Granger." She'd grown up exponentially since he'd last seen her. Again he took in her appearance, this time lingering perhaps too long on her bare legs, shamefully wondering what it would be like to taste her, to bury his face between her thighs and… No. He felt an unwelcome tug in his groin as he forced away this inappropriate mental image. "Shall we discuss my terms?"

"I have my own terms."

"Mine first. Please, sit." He gestured toward the couch. She shook her head stubbornly, clearly uncomfortable with the notion of getting more comfortable. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and settled onto the couch himself, hoping she didn't notice his wince of pain upon pressing his back to the cushions. "Stand then, if you so prefer. Wine?"

With a flick of his wand, the door of the liquor cabinet along the far wall opened. Hermione shook her head.

"I don't drink. I'm in need of galleons, not libations."

"Of course," he purred, secretly impressed by her honesty. "What was I thinking? It would hardly be appropriate for you to _indulge_ while on the clock."

"Oh?" She brought a hand up to her hip, looking him over, still trying to assess the situation, but regaining a bit of the spark she'd had in her younger years. "Has the clock started? I wasn't aware."

"Actually, I was under the impression we'd begin by discussing our terms, move onto this confidentiality agreement you mentioned in your letter, and then start the clock. Otherwise, I'm just paying you to talk, which is a waste of my money since, from what I remember, you are perfectly willing to chat the ear off of anyone who will listen without promise of payment required."

"Are you saying I talk too much?" she demanded, slightly insulted.

"I am saying, why pay for what I can easily get for free?" The double meaning in this was not lost on either of them, but in Hermione's case, she immediately wondered when was the last time he'd gotten 'it' for free, whereas he struggled momentarily with the pathetic knowledge that he was indeed willing to pay someone just to talk to him.

"So you expect me to be a _silent_ partner in this?"

"Silent? No. Nothing so extreme, _Ms_. Granger. I am merely informing you that when you're working, I would prefer it if you only speak when spoken to, as otherwise it may be difficult for me to concentrate on my own particular task at hand, whatever it may be."

She flushed and he couldn't hold back a smirk. There was a sick sort of pleasure to be gotten from this slow torturous reveal – for him, anyway. And though he did not know what pushed her to place her ad, he couldn't help thinking she deserved a little slow torture, both to teach her a lesson about the stupid and potentially dangerous thing she'd done, and because, quite honestly, he hadn't truly forgiven her for saving his life in the Shrieking Shack.

"Have we an understanding?" he asked.

Her brown eyes flashed.

"I cannot promise to only speak when spoken to, _sir_ , as I am _not_ a child."

"We've been enjoying the _pleasure_ of each other's company for less than ten minutes, Ms. Granger, and already this is the second time you have assured me you are not a child. Are you quite certain I am the one of us who needs this… reminder?"

She fidgeted. His lips curled into a devious smile.

"Would you like to know specifically what the position entails?"

"I would."

"Sit, Ms. Granger."

"I'm more at ease standing."

"I'm ill at ease with you standing. If it is the couch that frightens you…" He waved his wand and muttered, conjuring up a hard backed kitchen chair halfway between the couch and the doorway. "Sit there."

Regarding him with suspicion, Hermione perched on the edge of the chair, crossing her legs at the ankle. Once more he defeated the desire to react with an eye-roll. This was his hired seductress? In a picnic dress, ankles crossed, hands folded, stiff as a competitor in a Proper Posture Contest?

Clearly she had yet to master the sinful art of seduction.

(And they both knew it.)

"Twice a week to start for two hours at a stretch. You will arrive promptly at three and vacate the premises at precisely five, whether or not you've reached _completion_."

She went pink at this, a blush that extended from the tips of her ears all the way to her chest and arms. He couldn't help being momentarily distracted by this change in color, his gaze unintentionally focusing on the exposed skin of her shoulders. She took in a shaky breath and let it out slowly, waiting for him to continue.

"Upon your arrival each afternoon, you will be met with a list of duties and demands. See that each is fulfilled before checking it off. If I am less than _satisfied_ with your work, I will not remit the second half of your payment – _hard work_ is required, Ms. Granger. I am not willing to pay a witch to _laze_ _about_ all afternoon, understood?"

She nodded, slightly overwhelmed. What exactly was he asking her to do?

"Travel will be occasionally necessary. Guests during working hours are, obviously, not permitted. You will refrain from asking imposing or bothersome questions about or sharing unsolicited opinions regarding my personal life, health, practices, or general well-being, unless I have invited you to do so. An exception would be made only as it pertains directly to your work – for example, to borrow an old cliché, if I say 'jump,' you may ask, 'how high?' But otherwise, _hold your_ _tongue_ unless I permit you to wag it."

Her cheeks reddened again, but this time it was with barely concealed anger, not embarrassment. He could tell. It brought a sly smile to his lips. Oh, he was enjoying this. Her nostrils flared and she opened her mouth for the second time, no doubt to tell him more about what she thought of this intended restriction to be placed on her _tongue_ , but he held up a hand.

"These are my terms, Ms. Granger. You may present your own when I am through."

"I'll not be subjugated, _sir_ , not even by my… employer."

"You wrote that you are physically fit and in good health, yes?"

"Yes."

"Good. Then nothing I intend to propose should be too taxing for you. Moving on, this outfit, while easy on the eyes, is not at all appropriate. Do reconsider your choice of attire in the future with your duties in mind. Do you _come with_ references?"

"Excuse me?"

The low, silky baritone of his voice, combined with the way he put particular emphasis on odd words – _pleasure, tongue, come_ – even when they were imbedded in perfectly innocuous inquiries or statements, was enough to give her goose bumps that would not go away. She rubbed her arms subconsciously, giving the impression she was cold. Misunderstanding this action, he waved his wand again, sending flames into the fireplace opposite the couch.

"That's better," he said. "As for my request, I merely wish to know the particulars regarding your abundance – or dearth – of experience. Can anyone vouch for you?"

"My… experience?" She shifted in the chair, wringing her hands. Was he really asking her to give him contact information for prior sexual partners? No way would she suffer such humiliation, not even for a hundred galleons an hour. "Suffice it to say, Professor, I am capable of whatever you throw at me!"

"Are you?" He seemed to consider this then waved a hand dismissively. "My apologies, what a ridiculous question. Of course you are. You're one third of the so-called Golden Trio, the 'brains of Potter's operation,' the 'brightest witch of her age,' Gryffindor's star pupil, the very pride of Minerva McGonagall. Tell me, Ms. Granger, why is it you're advertising yourself in the Daily Prophet rather than teaching at Hogwarts or rising up the ranks at the Ministry?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Fair enough. Since I am demanding that no personal questions be asked, I suppose it would be unreasonable for me to expect you to answer such questions. I simply wondered whatever might have possessed you to… _switch focus_ … from one line of work to another."

"Extenuating circumstances," she answered, not meeting his eye.

"Indeed. Well. While I understand the physical strain presumably placed upon those in your former position, I can't imagine this work is any less… _strenuous_. Perhaps your desire to be compensated _hourly_ rather than work full time indicates you simply didn't have the… _stamina_ … to compete in the hustle-and-bustle world of Magical Law Enforcement?"

"There is nothing wrong with my stamina!" she exclaimed, unable to stop her voice from rising. She stood, gripping the sides of her dress as if for dear life, and stared defiantly down at him, tossing back her thick hair. "I'm sorry, Professor Snape, but I don't believe we'd be a good fit. I'm not what you're looking for. I can only lower myself so far…"

He chuckled, relaxing against the couch cushions, and casually twirled his wand in his hand.

"Calm down, Ms. Granger. The work's not all _that_ dirty. Sure, you'll likely have to exert yourself perhaps a bit more than you're presently used to, and I imagine you'll also have to spend a significant bit time kneeling on a cold, hard floor, which can be bad for one's back, but it's nothing worse than what you faced in my potions classroom on account of that bumbling bundle of nerves Neville Longbottom, thus I'm certain you can manage."

"It's…" The fire in her eyes dimmed, overtaken by utter bemusement. "Excuse me?"

"Should you accept the position I'm offering, you'll start today with the cauldrons and tables, move to the floors, then organize and rearrange the storage space if time permits, but I am more concerned with your work being done well than done quickly, especially if you are open to returning in a few days. Use magic sparingly, please, as many of my already brewed concoctions are sensitive to their surroundings. The fact that so much of this chore must be undertaken without use of one's wand is precisely why I am currently unable to do it myself. Did I mention I am not yet fully recovered from my… ordeal?"

"I… You… You want me to… You want me to clean your potions lab?"

He blinked, feigning innocence, and met her eyes with his. "Unless you had something else in mind?"

"I… No. I simply… I didn't think…"

"Your ad says you'll do 'almost anything.' Does that not include the manual labor necessary to sufficiently handle tidying the potions lab I've set up in my basement? Do you need to see it to assess the scale of this request before making your decision? Or do you know straight off that playing House Elf is beneath you?"

"It's not beneath me." Confusion was now giving way to a warm sensation of relief that filled her from her fingertips up her arms and down her shoulders to her toes. Being a superb Legilimens, he could sense this even without invading her mind. The tension in her upper body dissipated and she even began to slouch a bit. Perhaps she could earn the money she needed _and_ maintain her dignity. Most of her dignity, anyway.

"Then let us discuss it no further. Unless… you said you wanted me to sign a confidentiality agreement? And listen to your list of demands?"

"I… no. I suppose… I suppose we can put that off for now."

"Good. We've wasted enough time already. Follow me to the basement."

Severus forced himself up from the couch, clenching his teeth to keep from cursing at the pain that coursed through his back upon changing from a seated to a standing position. He began walking slowly toward the hall – the entrance to the basement was beside the stairs that led up to the bedrooms, opposite the front door – and wished he'd thought to take a pain potion before she'd arrived. He wouldn't be able to do it now, not until after she'd gone, as he had no desire to demonstrate any more weakness in front of her than was absolutely unavoidable (it was bad enough he'd need his cane to manage the stairs). He passed the chair on which she'd been sitting and crossed the threshold from the sitting room, then turned back.

She hadn't moved.

"Is there something else?" he asked, a note of curiosity in his voice.

"My ad…" She fingered the soft-looking material on the side of her dress and he had to look away, suddenly overwhelmed with the inappropriate desire to know what it felt like. "It ran in the Personals, didn't it, sir?"

"It did."

"And you responded because you need… a maid?"

"Maid, lab assistant, personal shopper, occasional cook, general help around the house… You _can_ cook, can't you?"

Hermione nodded.

"Good. When my visiting nurse was coming more regularly, she handled many of these little tasks, not that there was much to handle as I spent the bulk of my recuperation days reading in bed, unable to do much else. Now I am finding I am more mobile but not yet recovered enough to manage as I'd like, thus I thought seeking assistance would be preferable over letting myself atrophy. And now, here you are."

"I understand, sir. I just misunderstood…"

"No need to call me sir, Ms. Granger. My name is Severus."

"I… alright, Severus." It sounded foreign on her tongue, and yet… she liked it. "Severus, given the placement of my ad, I'm afraid I've been thrown off a bit by your response…"

"I assumed your ad ran in the Personals by mistake, Ms. Granger," he interjected. "Obviously an egregious error on the part of that dunderhead behind the advertisements counter at the Daily Prophet's Hogsmeade office. Or am I mistaken?"

"Er… no." She shook her head quickly as the sense of relief spread further. "No, you're not mistaken. It _was_ meant to be in the Help Wanted section under Seeking Employment."

"Good." He turned away, hiding a smirk. "Otherwise, Ms. Granger, one could infer from your ad that you're nothing more or less than a cheap _prostitute_." 

* * *

**A/N:**

 **Caution, Mild Smut Approaching in Chapter Five! (yay)**

I hope no one was disappointed to learn he'd solicited her for something other than sex. But what could it be? Surely he doesn't need _that much_ help polishing his cauldron! (Oh, innuendo…)

As always, I live for your follows, faves, and reviews, so feel free to tell me what you think.

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **–** **AL**


	5. Fantasy 'Twill Not Appear

**CHAPTER FIVE**

 **Tis but our fantasy… 'twill not appear.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

She had to leave at five, not only because he'd made it abundantly clear but because that's when her sitter needed to head home for supper, thus she worked only about ninety minutes rather than the full two hours. He didn't seem to care, handing her twenty galleons on her way out the door.

The hour and a half hadn't been bad. They made limited conversation as it pertained to the work and the time passed quickly.

It was a little uncomfortable crawling about and cleaning the floor with him watching over her from behind his desk. It made her feel like a student serving detention for him, except that his penetrating gaze combined with her unrelenting blush gave her the odd sensation they were engaged in something dirty, as if a Muggle with a camcorder was going to suddenly step out from the shadows, call "Action," and expect them to start removing their clothing. This was compounded by the fact that she'd caught him checking her out a couple of times, which prompted her to internally question his motives, but the slow, painstaking way he eased down basement stairs with his cane convinced her he'd been honest about his continued recovery and need for assistance to do the things he found too physically demanding. He'd been correct about her attire – it was not at all the ideal outfit in which to be scrubbing cauldrons and climbing the rickety ladder in his small, cramped storeroom, which she presumed had been a root cellar back when this home was owned by non-magic folks.

At the end of her shift, he asked whether she'd be open to returning in two days time.

"From three to five on Friday?" she asked. Upon his nod, she confirmed cheerily, "Of course! I look forward to it!"

He cocked an eyebrow. She inwardly cringed. Why had she said that? That was an odd, awkward thing to say. _I look forward to it._ Ugh. Come on, Hermione.

Then he'd handed her the money, they'd shaken hands politely, and she'd hurried outside to the apparition point from which she could return home.

Entering her tiny flat, she was pleased to see that Eloise, the cheery, round-faced twelve-year-old Hufflepuff who lived down the way, had everything under control. The girl had even started to prepare dinner, with help from the older two children, leaving the baby in the highchair banging a spatula against the plastic tray.

"I hope you don't mind, Hermione," Eloise said. "The kids were hungry and I thought cooking together would be a good way to keep them occupied."

"I made the salad!" said Helena proudly, holding up a bowl of lettuce, black olives, chopped baby carrots, and cherry tomatoes.

"I make sauce!" announced Henry, who was standing on a chair by the stove with Eloise beside him. He was holding a long handled wooden spoon and stirring slowly with her hand over his.

"I was careful to keep him away from the flames," Eloise assured Hermione. Hermione smiled as she lifted the baby from her high chair and kissed her cheek.

"I trust you, Eloise. Here…" She paid the girl a galleon. It was a lot for two hours worth of work, but since she still had nine more and hadn't had to sell herself to get them, she was feeling generous. "Are you able to do this again the day after tomorrow, same time? I'll pay you a galleon a week, not counting this one for today, if you can sit for me regularly."

"You got the job?" asked Eloise, having been under the impression Hermione was going to an interview that afternoon. Which, Hermione supposed, was partially true.

"I did. I'll be helping Prof… I'll be assisting a potions master for a few hours per week while he recovers from an injury."

"Great!" The girl gave Hermione a quick hug. She was genuinely happy for her neighbor, as she'd long suspected money was tight in the Granger house. Eloise's parents weren't crazy about their daughter spending so much time at the little flat with Hermione and the children, but she didn't care, she thought Hermione was an inspiration – this was the woman who had, at age eighteen, orchestrated the break-in at Gringott's while using Polyjuice to impersonate Bellatrix Lestrange! This was the woman who, at age sixteen, set multiple records for her high scores on the O.W.L.s! This was the woman who had, at age twelve, helped save the Philosopher's Stone from Lord Voldemort himself!

Eloise's parents were aware that their neighbor was both a scholar and a war hero, of course, but they also knew she was also a single mother, twice divorced, already unmarried when that third baby was born, not to mention conspicuously jobless… plus there were rumors… terrible rumors… almost unbelievable rumors… about what had prompted her abrupt departure from the Ministry two years ago.

But helping with the children kept their daughter occupied when away from Hogwarts, and, after all, it had been Hermione who'd privately tutored the girl last summer before her first year when she was struggling to control her involuntary magic.

Rumors or no rumors, they owed the witch a debt of gratitude.

Eloise kissed each of the children on the tops of their heads and bid the family goodnight, hurrying home so as not to miss her own supper.

Hermione finished boiling the spaghetti, mixed it with the sauce and set it on plates with the salad. She gave some cut up buttered pasta to the baby, who was already making a mess of her sliced cherry tomatoes, then handed each of the older children a napkin and a fork. Helena promptly unfolded her napkin and placed it delicately in her lap before beginning to twirl her pasta carefully.

Henry, on the other hand, took the phrase "dig in" quite literally, grabbing two fists full of gooey spaghetti and taking a bite first from one hand, then the other.

"Oh, Henry," sighed Hermione. The boy turned three two months ago but still had the table manners of a toddler half his age. She supposed it was her fault. She was typically so worn out by dinner time she didn't have the patience or energy to focus on teaching him how to properly hold his utensils or differentiate between his napkin and his pants, whereas she'd spent Helena's early years patiently teaching her and rewarding appropriate behavior.

"Oh, Henry," echoed Helena, dabbing at a spot of sauce on her chin with her napkin. "Kids these days, right Mum?"

"Kids dese days!" shouted Henry, thrusting his spaghetti hands in the air.

The baby copied him, holding her fists above her head as if in triumph. "Dee day!"

Even though Helena looked horrified, Henry was dripping sauce onto the floor, and some of the baby's pasta was now sticking to the wall behind her, Hermione suddenly couldn't contain her laughter. She was just so… happy. Relieved. Upon leaving a few hours ago, she'd been miserable, and struggling to hide it. She'd been picturing herself minutes away from being on her back under some sweaty, panting pervert, letting him fuck away the last shreds of her dignity and sense of self-worth, a notion that was somehow both better and worse once she realized her responder had been none other than the formidable Professor Severus Snape, but now? Now she had legit, steady work, work that would pay enough, at least for the time being, to keep her head above water (ten galleons an hour was more than twice what she'd made at the Ministry). Before she'd departed he'd told her he'd be content to having her work every other weekday rather than twice per week, if she happened to be available. Which, of course, she was. Three days a week, two hours a day, ten galleons an hour… with that money, she could start paying off the back rent, keep up with the current rent, and maybe even buy a few necessities they'd been going without for too long. Hell, she might even be able to buy a few toys. Henry needed them. Though they were frequent visitors to the library, he didn't get the same enjoyment from books, board games, and puzzles that his older sister did, nor could he be easily amused by kitchen utensils or Peek-a-Boo like the baby. No, he needed something else to occupy his time. Perhaps a dump truck. The boy loved digging in the dirt.

After dinner, Hermione gave the children a bath, read them several stories, and tucked them into bed. Once all three were asleep, she headed back into the loo to take her own bath, replaying in her mind the events of the afternoon.

-0-0-0-

At Spinner's End, the former Potions professor and Hogwarts Headmaster was ruminating over the time spent in the company of Miss Granger. No, _Ms._ Granger. Hermione. Though he had asked her to call him Severus and she'd done so, she had not offered him the usage of her first name. Which was fine. He didn't need it.

But it would have been nice if she'd…

No.

He half-regretted having been so rough on her during their 'interview,' as it might make future conversations difficult, and he was yearning for decent conversation. He'd taken twisted pleasure in getting her riled up though, especially when she dropped the subordinate pretense and gave him a glimpse of the girl who'd helped defeat the Dark Lord.

"There is nothing wrong with my stamina!" she'd exclaimed, the blush deepening in her cheeks and chest, brought on by a mix of embarrassment and anger. He smirked remembering it. Perhaps, if he pushed her enough, he could get _that_ Ms. Granger to make another appearance. But he wouldn't push too hard. He wouldn't want to push her away. She seemed sensitive to any inquiries about the abrupt end to her time working for the Ministry; perhaps that would be an ideal scab to pick.

Fuck, he felt pathetic.

Paying her to work for him and plotting out ways to annoy her into a conversation after he'd expressly forbidden unnecessary chitchat, with his mind darting to inappropriate places as he recalled visually taking in the curves she'd been lacking ten years ago…

He could hear the voice of Albus Dumbledore in his head telling him, not for the first time, that he needed to get out more.

Severus had taken a dosage of pain potion as soon as she'd gone. Though he usually saved the medication for before bed, he was aching more than usual, probably due to the nearly two hours he'd spent seated in the hard-backed chair in his lab, watching her, trying to pretend he was fine. When his home recovery began, it hadn't taken long for him to start relying too heavily on the potion, leaving him teetering on the edge of addiction after only a matter of months. His nurse had helped him through and part of the 'visiting only every six months' deal was that he had to keep himself in check, not overuse, no matter how strong his desire to remain numb happened to be. In other words, he had to learn to live with the pain.

Thankfully, his body hurt a little less every day.

Unfortunately, he was still far from healed.

He ate dinner alone, as usual. Boiled eggs and a small salad with a glass of elf-made red wine. He read for awhile afterward, but honestly, he was growing bored with books. Ten years of living life through the eyes and experiences of fictional characters long-dead Muggle authors had seen fit to put on pages was wearing on him, especially as he'd now managed his way through every single dusty hardcover novel in his small home at least thrice. How many more times could he ride a raft up the mighty Mississippi or be visited by three ghosts on Christmas Eve or offer up his kingdom for a horse or solve the mystery of the murder on the Orient Express?

Around eight-thirty he retired to his room, figuring he'd get to sleep earlier than usual, but his thoughts kept… drifting.

Her eyes were the same as he'd remembered from that night on the floor of the Shrieking Shack.

When he'd looked into Harry's eyes – Lily's eyes – and closed his own, he'd done so accepting death, only to find himself rousing an indeterminate amount of time later. She was stroking his cheek, calling his name. At first it was "Professor Snape!" Then, "Headmaster?"

But he didn't open his eyes until she whispered, "Severus?"

She was staring down at him with an expression of hopeful apprehension. His jaw twitched. A rumble came from his throat. But no words. He tried again. And again.

He wanted to say, "Please forgive me." He wanted to say, "Go help Potter." He wanted to say, "Kill the snake."

He wanted to say, "Let me die."

He _tried_ to say, "Let me die."

As often as he'd replayed this memory in his mind, he had no idea whether he'd actually managed to speak at all.

The world went hazy. Her frazzled hair went hazy. The features of her face – a small nose, a pointed chin, lips pursed in a frown, eyebrows drawn together – went hazy. Everything fuzzed and faded until all he could clearly see were her eyes. Brown eyes. Eyes the color of cinnamon. Eyes full of concern.

"Let me die."

She wouldn't.

He felt that inappropriate tug in his groin again, picturing her in his sitting room in that virgin white dress with pale yellow polka dots. Her hair was tamer now, and yet, still wild. Her lips were painted pink (not rouge, as he might have suspected for the occasion). Her skin was a shade darker than it had been on May 2nd, 1998. But her eyes…

They hadn't changed.

He shifted uncomfortably as he felt himself stiffening under the soft cotton of his Muggle pajama bottoms. Why was this happening? He held no attraction to her. He hadn't hired her for… _that_ … despite the paces he'd put her through before presenting the particulars of the position. He wanted general assistance, human contact, and stimulating conversation, not a living breathing body to lust over three times per week.

This was wrong.

"She's nearly thirty," he said aloud, as if the fact that she was no longer the eighteen-year-old who saved his life meant it would be acceptable to give into these thoughts, to indulge, to act on…

Fuck.

He forced himself out of bed, glad the pain potion hadn't completely worn off. He needed a shower. A cold one. A long, cold shower.

But once he was in the shower with the water raining down from above, he couldn't bring himself to adjust the temperature accordingly. Rather, he closed his eyes and envisioned her again, in that white and yellow dress, shouting at him.

"There is nothing wrong with my stamina!"

He groaned, no longer fighting his arousal. He couldn't help himself. He was only a man, after all. He was lonely.

 _That's all_ , he assured himself. _Lonely_.

Besides, it wasn't as if she'd ever know, were he to take matters into his own hands…

-0-0-0-

Back at the flat, Hermione reclined in the tub, letting the water fill up from the shower head rather than the tap, enjoying the sensation of heat raining down over her.

She was relieved. She had legitimate work. For a man who was not a stranger, one she didn't know well, but knew she could trust.

How conflicted she'd felt upon realizing he'd been the one to answer her, though.

Part of her was relieved even then. Relieved he wasn't a stranger. Relieved he wasn't a man she'd find personally repulsive. Relieved because she was certain he wouldn't hurt her, or tell anyone of their encounter, or take what he wanted and refuse to pay.

Part of her was terrified. To submit in such a way to a man she'd always respected wouldn't only cost her, it would change her perception of him. Knowing he was the type who could pay for sex, who would take advantage of the financial desperation of one of his former students, had sickened and saddened her, tarnishing her impression of the man he was.

So she was relieved.

But a teeny tiny little bitty part of her, the part that had already resigned itself to her new reality, the part that recognized his voice from the hall and knew his identity before she'd even stepped into the sitting room, that part of her was…

Disappointed?

No. That didn't make any sense.

"You're a mess, Hermione," she whispered, eyes closed, her words drowned out by the water from the showerhead raining down into the water filling the tub.

It had been a long time since she'd last had sex, that was all. And she was relieved. So relieved. She needed a release for these pent-up conflicting and confusing emotions, that was all.

 _That's_ _all_ , she assured herself. Relieved.

But she let her fingers trailed from her bent knee, up her thigh, toward her center…

-0-0-0-

"Fuck," said Severus aloud. He tipped his head back, letting the water from the shower head beat down against his forehead and run back. He wrapped his long, slightly calloused fingers around his engorged member, again thankful that the pain potion had not worn off completely lest this would be intolerable, but had worn enough that he wasn't numb. His hand played the role he'd rather see filled by her.

He closed his eyes, picturing her yet again, in that white and yellow halter-top dress, on her knees scrubbing a potions spill from the floor of his lab. He envisioned himself standing before her, unzipping his trousers… He envisioned those painted pink lips wrapped around his cock… Her tongue flicking over the head… Thrusting into her open mouth…

-0-0-0-

"Fuck," murmured Hermione. Her fingers rubbed deftly over her clit, making her hips buck, momentarily pressing her pubic bone against her palm. Unable to shake the feeling this was dirty and inappropriate and stupid and nonsensical, she pictured herself with her back to the wall of his potions lab, pinned there by his slim but strong body, with his lips on her neck, her fingers acting as substitute for his own.

She furrowed her brow, trying desperately to picture someone else, anyone else, but his voice in her ear, calling her _Ms_. Granger, putting odd emphasis on seemingly random words – _pleasure, tongue, come_ – kept floating back into her mind. Her breath quickened… Pressure was building… She arched her back, tilted her hips…

"Oh, fuck…" she moaned, increasing the speed of her fingers against her clit, rubbing, rubbing… fantasizing about him…

-0-0-0-

"Oh, fuck…" he moaned, increasing the speed of his hand on his cock, stroking, stroking… fantasizing about her…

-0-0-0-

Her orgasm hit with near-blinding intensity, making her dizzy, as she heard his voice once more in her head… _pleasure… tongue… come_. To keep from crying out she bit her lip, tasting coppery blood. Arching her back caused the water to flick pleasantly against her sensitive nipples, adding to the building sensation. She pinched one of them between her thumb and forefinger, imagining his tongue flicking over the hardened pebble in the center. She jerked her head back roughly, hitting it against the shower wall, as her body pulsated in the tub. She did not slow the movement of her fingers, as pleasure rippled from her head down her chest, into her groin and through her curled toes, until she was sated and exhausted.

Clearly, it had been too long.

-0-0-0-

His culminating moment hit at precisely the same time as hers (though there was no way either could've known this). He used one hand as leverage against the shower wall, and with the other kept stroking, faster and more erratically, picturing himself with his fingers tangled in her thick hair, imagining her swallowing his seed as he came. His balls constricted semi-painfully before expelling all he had on the floor of the tub, where the evidence of his self-gratification was promptly washed away by the water. He relaxed, letting the shower beat down on his sore neck and shoulders, and struggled to control his breathing.

This was the most he'd exerted himself in some time.

-0-0-0-

Fuck.

She was relieved.

He was lonely.

That's all.

It didn't mean anything.

In less than forty-eight hours, she'd be returning to Spinner's End to officially begin her regular tenure as his employee.

Both hoped to be rid of any lingering inappropriate thoughts before then.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Thanks all for reading, reviewing, following, and adding to favorites!**

 **I know the formatting of this chapter was a little different, but hope it wasn't distracting. I don't usually use visual breaks but thought it might be difficult to follow the setting switches otherwise.**

 **Every 5ish chapters I'll write responses to reviews and post at the end of the chapter, so if you have any Qs feel free to ask and you shall receive (answers). I also respond to PMs but offer no spoilers... usually. lol.**

 **For those who read Wanting Narcissa, just an FYI that while my Snape here shares some personality traits and preferences with that Snape, I tried to create a whole new Severus without straying from canon. My other Augury Origin crossover characters, however (the Malfoys and Bellatrix) are completely different in this fic.**

 **Thx again!**

 **-AL**

 **Lilikaco –** Thank you! Severus suspects she has money trouble but being distanced from the wizarding world for so long, he has no idea what her situation is at this point. Other than that, the only other thing I can tell you at this point is that all of your questions do get answered in upcoming chapters, I promise!

 **Dmeb** – Thanks! The innuendo will come back to bite him in a sense, but maybe it'll pay off a little bit too. ;)

 **Thorn** – I'm glad you enjoyed! I can't imagine Molly allowing her son to become a deadbeat dad, but… that's all I can say at the moment. You _will_ learn about what happened with both of Hermione's ex-husbands though, including the identities of their father (or fathers).

 **RhodaBush** – Eloise is the go-to babysitter until she goes back to Hogwarts, then Hermione will have to figure out something else. Thx!

 **Moonlit** **Glitter** –There will be some future hooking up between them, but he's not quite ready for that yet… and neither is she, really. Thanks for reviewing!

 **The** **Blind** **Apprentice** – Thanks! I hope you continue to enjoy.

 **Harry** **Hobbit** – Glad you're willing to try something new! I promise I'll work on the other fics soon. I always look forward to your responses!

 **Worrywart** – I love the thought of organ music crashing in the background! Hope you liked where it ended up going (thus far).

 **Jmullinax** – I agree. I couldn't decide whether to have them still be close but since he's married to Ginny and I wanted the Weasleys out of the picture, it seemed the best way.

 **Marzipan4** , **Guest/Guests** , **Arizona** **Daydreamer** , **PopularCats,** **Snazzieshazzie,** **Elizabethrose1974** – Thanks for reviewing!


	6. Words, Words, Words

**A/N: I just updated yesterday so if you haven't read Chapter Five yet, go back and do that first! Thanks! -AL**

* * *

 **CHAPTER SIX**

 **Words, words, words."**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

For a man who said no chitchat would be permitted during working hours, he certainly couldn't seem to shut up.

On Friday, while she rearranged the storage space, he lectured about the importance of keeping one's space organized, not alphabetically, but by the purpose of each already brewed potion, the possible usage of each individual ingredient, and the properties of the various magical solutions he'd created that could be combined to make other concoctions, complete with unnecessary explanations for why he'd developed this complicated and, in her opinion, utterly nonsensical system. But she'd listened and nodded and, quite obediently, had not asked any questions unless they were of the "how high?" variety.

On Monday, while she cleaned and assessed the kitchen and pantry, making a list for the market, he expressed that the best thing about living at Hogwarts was the food, though he never enjoyed eating meals while sitting at the head table a tier above students, "staring down on them as if a member of an unwilling wedding party or snobbish, archaic royalty." He far preferred the intimacy of a round table, even though he was generally quiet during meals, preferring to read the Daily Prophet over listening to the gossip or classroom-related concerns of his colleagues.

On Wednesday, while she took care of the floors in the kitchen, pantry, sitting room, downstairs loo, and front hall, he followed her around peppering her with questions about the wizarding world and whether it had changed since he'd last truly been a part of it, which allowed her to do a bit more of the talking, even though she was, in some ways, as removed from it now as he was.

On Friday, while she pulled weeds in the back garden, he told her about his mother, a talented Herbologist and potions mistress in her own right, and all the hours he'd spent as a small child helping her tend to the plants here, both magical and Muggle, how it had been one of the few bright spots in a dark childhood. Despite Hermione's thinly veiled curiosity and subtle attempts to seek additional information, he did not expound further on this.

On Monday, while she stocked the kitchen with the previously procured items from his list, including everything she'd picked up over the weekend when she had more time in which to shop, he prattled on about the importance of healthy eating, offered her a slice of apple turnover he'd made himself (and seemed quite proud of), then, when she declined the snack, informed her she "may wish to consider gaining a few pounds," which prompted her to shoot him a withering look that shut him right up… for the moment. Before she departed he offered the turnover again and this time she most reluctantly accepted it, figuring she could divide it among the children.

On Wednesday, while she dusted the bookshelves, which spanned two of the four walls of the sitting room in their entirety, plus most of the third wall and a long shelf above the fireplace mantle, he waxed philosophical about "the importance of having a firm grasp on the basics of classic Muggle literature in modern society" and lamented that Hogwarts students were typically rather ill-read, even those from non-magic homes. "Some students," he informed her with an expression of utter distaste, "had never even heard of Shakespeare."

Most of the time she reacted to his alternating pontification and mindless chatter with a nod or an "Mm-hm" or a "You don't say?" figuring he was only trying to drag her into conversation so he could then punish her for straying from the bonds of their agreement, but when it came to discussing books, her resolve weakened.

"Don't you agree it's a travesty?" he pushed, turning his body to look at her over the back of the couch on which he was reclined. "Arguably the most famous half-blood to ever live, and neither Muggleborn nor pureblood Hogwarts students even recognize his name!"

"It _is_ difficult to fathom," she agreed, carefully removing an antique volume of  King Lear from the shelf and flipping the gold-lined pages. She took in a deep whiff of the inside front cover. The smell of old books was her favorite, better than any lotion, flower, or perfume. "I didn't even know Shakespeare was a half-blood until I was in my early twenties, though of course I'd read his work, my parents being big fans."

"To have named you Hermione, they must have been," he said. "To have gone with such an esoteric homage. Have you read A Winter's Tale?"

"Of course. I had to know all about my namesake!"

She smiled and he smiled back. It was the first smile they'd exchanged since… well… ever, she supposed. She couldn't recall him every smiling at anyone when she was a student.

"It ought to be a class at Hogwarts," declared Severus. "I said the same to Dumbledore twenty years ago, but he was dismissive as he seemed to think the students had enough to learn without adding Muggle-centric literature into the mix, especially owing to the fact that theatre, when it was an extracurricular option at Hogwarts, wasn't terribly popular. I rather felt he was much mistaken in this."

"All due respect to Professor Dumbledore, I am inclined to agree with you. I would've loved learning about his plays from a magical standpoint, especially studying Macbeth's three witches, which are said to be based on the actual Wyrd sisters. I find the entire subject utterly fascinating. My ex-husband was quite the Shakespeare fan, as a matter of fact, which is one of the things that drew me to him. That's the reason our…" She broke off. She'd very nearly revealed that her children were named for three of the bard's characters, but that would mean admitting she had children, which, for some reason she couldn't explain, she didn't want him to know.

"That's the reason you…?" he prompted, staring intently at her. He figured there was no way she was speaking of immature dunderhead Ronald Weasley, making this the first time she'd mentioned her second husband in these two weeks.

She shook her head and returned King Lear to the now dust-free shelf.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said. "Besides, didn't you make it clear fourteen days ago that I was to be seen and not heard?"

"I…"

She didn't let him answer. "I've finished the shelves. There's another half-hour to five. What shall I begin next?"

"Have you read it?"

"Read what?"

"King Lear."

"Years ago."

"It's not my favorite." He adjusted the pillow behind his back. "I prefer the comedies."

"You prefer the comedies?" Hermione struggled to hide a snigger, turning back to the shelf to run her fingertips against the cloth, gold-embossed spines of these hardcover plays. He had every single one, as far as she could tell, plus a collected volume of Shakespeare's sonnets.

"What's funny about the comedies?"

"A lot's funny about the comedies. They're comedies. They're meant to be funny. If they weren't, they'd likely be called something else."

He narrowed his eyes, not enjoying this teasing. "They're not called comedies simply because they're funny," he corrected. "And that wasn't my question, anyway. What's funny about my preference for the comedies?"

"Nothing," she said innocently, shrugging one shoulder. She was wearing a thin sweatshirt today, boasting the name of some Muggle university, and dark blue jeans with red trainers. She could be a college student. He couldn't decide whether or not this look was an improvement on her dress from her first day. The shirt was a bit baggy, but the jeans gave her arse a nice rounded shape… He looked away, scowling.

"Nothing is funny? Then why did you laugh?"

"Forgive me, Severus. It's just that I'd pictured you more the type to enjoy a good tragedy, or perhaps a history. Julius Caesar comes to mind."

"I'm a serious person, thus I must only be capable of enjoying serious theatre?"

She couldn't believe it; he actually seemed insulted. Hurt, even.

"That's not what I said!" Hermione quickly clarified, hurrying toward the couch. She placed her elbows on the back of it and leaned down, looking at him. "It's just that… the comedies are full of mistaken identity, frivolous wordplay and bawdy humor with a little magic and a lot of romance, all tied up with neat, happy endings. It's just… not what I'd pictured you liking, that's all."

"I'll have you know, I am a _master_ of frivolous wordplay," he said slowly, and she, recalling their innuendo-infused conversation the day she started working for him, blushed. "I am also a man of _diverse interests_ , Ms. Granger," he added, and for some inexplicable reason the words "diverse interests" gave her the same goose bumps previously brought on by "pleasure, tongue, come." It had to be the way he hissed the Ss. She shivered.

"Cold?"

"No, sir. There's still twenty-five minutes left. What's next?"

He was longing to invite her to simply sit on the couch with him and discuss literature – he was certain she was well-read with many opinions on the subject – but unwilling to present her with his weakness for conversation so early in her employment, he merely waved dismissively and said, "You are, no doubt, bright enough to figure out a way to sufficiently occupy your time until the clock chimes five. Or are you not the _self-starter_ you once were?"

 _Self-starter_ made her fidget uncomfortably. As furiously disgusted as she felt with herself over it, the truth was that night in the tub wasn't the only time she'd thought inappropriately about him since their initial meeting, and "self-starter" gave her the entirely wrong mental image. A master of frivolous wordplay, indeed!

"The drapes could use a good cleaning," she said, heading toward the windows. "I'll take them outside and beat them off…" Instantly her already pink cheeks went scarlet as she realized what she'd said. She'd meant beat the dust off of them, of course, but when put that way it sounded so… _dirty_.

He smirked, wondering whether it would be imprudent to ask her whether she was adept at beating things off, but the thought gave him an uncomfortable tug in the groin that he thought best to quell thus he changed the subject.

"You did not attend the wedding of Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott."

"No, I didn't." Her back and shoulders stiffened. She did not turn to look at him, as she used her wand to take down the curtains, preparing to bring them outside.

"Why? It was a veritable Who's-Who of Hogwarts' finest, including, according to the Prophet, nearly the entirety of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Houses from your year, not to mention a number of Ravenclaws and one out-of-place Slytherin."

Despite her intense desire to escape this conversation, Hermione whipped around to face Severus, nearly dropping the drapes.

"Which Slytherin?"

"Draco Malfoy, naturally."

"He was there?" That hadn't been in the Prophet, she was certain. She read the entire article multiple times before tossing it into her fireplace and letting the kids roast marshmallows over it, which thrilled them as they were typically only given nutritious snacks.

"His mother wrote me. She said Draco was told I'd been invited too, but declined, and she wanted to know why. She seemed to think if I had gone, I might have been able to secure a picture with her son, his wife, and the happy couple worthy of the Prophet's society pages. It's been a decade but he's yet to reach the level of clout and respect his father had prior to their being outed as Death Eaters. She seems to be of the mindset that getting seen publicly with me and Longbottom would do wonders for Draco's image."

"His father has plenty of clout," Hermione replied bitterly, an uncharacteristic sneer on her lips. "The man is as powerful now, with just as much pull, as he was in Dumbledore's days, and he's just as despicable too. Their entire family is spoiled and superior. I wouldn't have minded had Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy been sent to Azkaban for their crimes after You-Know-Who's second fall just like Bellatrix Lestrange and her deranged husband were for torturing the Longbottoms after his first one. Dreadful, diseased people, the lot of them."

"But let's not speak ill of the dead," said Severus carefully. He was curious about this visceral reaction from his former pupil but knew better than to ask directly for an explanation.

Hermione tossed the curtains and waved her wand, leaving them suspended in midair, then wrenched up the sleeve of her sweatshirt and stepped toward the couch, thrusting her bare forearm at Severus.

"They watched," she said, turning her arm so he could see the slur etched into it. "The Malfoys. They stood there in the drawing room of their garish old Manor and watched, no doubt garnering sick pleasure from it, while Bellatrix Lestrange laid her body on top of me, cursed me repeatedly at close range with the Cruciatus, and carved _this word_ into my flesh with her knife. I screamed until I lost consciousness, but it was there to greet me when I came to, and here it remains over a decade later. It's a constant reminder hidden only by a Glamour, which typically can't even do the job for more than a couple of hours. Healers are not able to remove it, they can't even fade it. I tried having a Muggle tattoo artist cover it, but two days later, instead of healing, the ink seeped into the letters leaving them brighter than before. This is all people like me are to them, to the Blacks, the Lestranges, the Malfoys, proud members of the so-called Sacred Twenty-eight. I don't care how reformed Lucius and Narcissa pretend to be for the Prophet and the Wizengamot, they're the same as they always were. Only Draco's change of heart seems to be genuine. His parents can spend eternity rotting in hell with his aunt and the rest of their vile crowd for all I care!"

Here she was, the woman he'd been hoping to see, the one who challenged him, but contrary to his many fantasies about a moment like this, it did not feel good to have gotten her riled up. On the contrary, he felt vaguely ill.

"Bellatrix Lestrange carved _Mudblood_ into your skin?" He held her arm gently in his hands, tracing his thumb over the word. It was carved in childish scrawl with what he assumed had been an enchanted knife, perhaps one infused with dragon's blood – that would leave a permanent mark. His expression darkened. He'd been in a coma for most of the trials – and since Bellatrix had died, there wasn't one for her anyway – which meant he'd had no idea that Hermione had been tortured by the Dark Lord's twisted mistress on the floor of the drawing room at Malfoy Manor.

"And she wasn't even the worst of them," spat Hermione, furious tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. He ran his fingertips over the slur, trying to push from his mind the realization that this was the first time in over a decade his skin had directly touched that of another person, save for polite handshakes and the accidental brushing to fingers during an exchange of money.

"People think Narcissa Malfoy was somehow reformed because she lied in the face of the devil, but it isn't as if she did it for altruistic reasons!" exclaimed Hermione with obvious fury. "She wanted to find her son, that's all. She didn't care about Harry or about the resistance or about taking down You-Know-Who! She was a selfish bitch then and she's a selfish bitch now."

"Voldemort," said Severus plainly. "Don't call him You-Know-Who."

"Voldemort," repeated Hermione, some of the anger draining from her upper body, as she regained her sense of control. She used her sleeve to wipe away the tears. "Tom Riddle."

"He has no power over us now," said Severus, not releasing her arm. "He's dead. Dead and gone, same as any other mortal man. Because of you."

"And you."

"And Harry Potter," he added.

"And the Order of the Phoenix," she supplied.

"And Narcissa Malfoy." He couldn't help himself. It was the truth. But he shouldn't have said it. She glared at him, wrenched her arm away, and fixed her sleeve.

"Not her. No good she did excuses the bad she's done."

"'O villain!'" quoted Severus, his eyes meeting hers. "Thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption for this.' Much Ado About Nothing, William Shakespeare."

"'Deliberate cruelty is not forgivable,'" replied Hermione. "A Streetcar Named Desire, Tennessee Williams."

"I haven't read that one, I'm afraid."

"Classic American theatre. I'll bring it to you on Friday. Peruse it over the weekend and let me know your thoughts on Monday."

"Yes, _Professor,"_ he said, the slightest hint of a twinkle in his coal-black eyes, desperate to alter the mood. "Shall I write a twelve inch response or will an _oral_ presentation suffice?"

Add 'oral' to that list of should-be forbidden words, she thought, avoiding his eye. She retrieved the hovering curtains. "Oral will suffice, sir," she said with an air of awkward formality. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I only have ten minutes to finish this work before I go."

"Get beating, then," he replied dismissively, but maintaining that mischievous glint in his eye. "Don't let me stop you."

-0-0-0-

Back at the flat, Eloise, as usual, had everything under control. She'd even started a dinner of pecan pancakes, scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, and bacon.

"I thought breakfast for dinner might be fun," she explained, helping Henry flip a flapjack. Hermione smiled, thanked her, gave her a galleon, and sent her on her way.

After dinner she took the kids to the park for an hour to burn off energy before bath time, then, after putting them to bed, she poured herself a large glass of red wine, which she'd purchased while shopping for Severus the previous weekend and hidden in the highest cabinet. She'd felt guilty spending the money on it at the time, but now was glad she had. She needed a way to unwind that didn't involve fantasizing about her maddeningly confusing boss in the bath tub. Especially tonight, when any attempt at thinking happy thoughts was quashed by devastating memories of days she'd much rather forget.

-0-0-0-

After dinner Severus went upstairs to try to sleep but ended up in the shower, thinking about her, as had become his routine on days she worked. Tonight, though, he couldn't conjure up any of the deviant fantasies that had been plaguing his mind since her tenure in his employ began. Rather, he was consumed with curiosity over her earlier outburst, and couldn't stop seeing in his mind eye the disturbing image of a teenaged Hermione being tortured by Bellatrix Black Lestrange. There was more to the incident than she was revealing, of that he was certain. Had Lucius and Narcissa participated in her torture? If so, she must not have revealed as much to the Wizengamot, as they were never charged with it. There had to be a reason, a cause for this barely contained fury. How could whatever Narcissa had done be worse than what Narcissa's sister had done? What could be worse than permanently carving _Mudblood_ into someone's skin?

That night, neither Severus nor Hermione slept well.

-0-0-0-

Far, far from both the small flat and the home at Spinner's End, a lone denizen of Malfoy Manor paced the drawing room, glass of wine in hand, unable to head to bed. Unable to sleep.

One of the Malfoys frequently suffered from the inability to sleep.

One of the Malfoys was plagued by occasional bouts of guilt that reared up suddenly without obvious cause and refused to be silenced by liquor, though not for lack of trying.

One of the Malfoys wondered whether atonement would ever be possible – or, for that matter, whether it would even be worth pursuing.

That night, while Severus tossed and turned and Hermione cried silently into her pillow, one of the Malfoys got pissed to the point of passing out, as only complete inebriation could provide a decent short-term escape.

 _Deliberate cruelty is not forgivable."_


	7. Reserve Thy Judgment

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

 **Reserve thy judgment.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

As the next few weeks came and went, Severus found it increasingly difficult to drum up two hours worth of work for her to do every other day, but they managed to fall into a routine anyway. She tended to shop on weekends, insisting that was easiest for her, so Mondays were spent putting away groceries and prepping things for him to eat throughout the weak. She would freeze soups and casseroles and sometimes, when there was no cleaning to be done or lists to be made, they cooked together. Frequently he found himself in the kitchen before three, baking biscuits or pie or small cakes, so the house would smell welcoming and pleasant upon her arrival. He always offered her something to eat during her shift and she always declined, but he found if he handed her baked goods by the door she'd thank him and take whatever he'd wrapped.

"You do realize, Severus, that as my employer you are not required to feed me."

"I wouldn't dream of trying to feed you, Ms. Granger," he said, handing her a basket of blueberry scones.

"Then what's this?" She held up the basket.

"Your Christmas bonus."

"It's July."

"Happy Half-Christmas then. It's like regular Christmas but with intolerable heat instead of snow and assorted baked goods in place of traditional gifts. Enjoy the holiday."

He knew her slight frame was none of his business, but at the same time he couldn't help being a bit concerned. She'd leaned over to put pork chops in the oven one afternoon and he'd audibly gasped when he realized he could see the outline of her spine clearly right through the thin material of her blouse. For this reason he made it his secret mission to ensure she was getting enough to eat – though considering the generous amount he was paying her, she shouldn't be struggling to support herself, not anymore.

On Wednesdays, she cleaned and organized the house, or, if there was no cleaning or organizing to be done, she assisted him in his basement potions lab, where he brewed, among other things, his own pain potions.

"I am looking to develop one that can ease pain without causing significant neuropathy while lacking the addictive qualities of the ones that already exist."

"No small task." She climbed up the storeroom ladder to retrieve powdered moonstone from the highest shelf. He stood behind the ladder, steadying it in case she slipped.

"I have the time, not to mention I'm an ideal test subject."

"If anyone can do it…" she said as she climbed carefully down and handed him the vial. "You can."

And on Fridays, she tackled the overgrown, long-abandoned garden.

"For how long has this been falling into disrepair? It doesn't appear to have been touched in well over a decade."

"My mother died in 1992. No one's been out here since. Until I showed it to you."

"I'm sorry about your mother," she said softly, unable to shake the mental image of her own mum. "Was she sick long?"

"In a sense," he answered with a shrug. "She committed suicide."

He expected her to ask a follow-up question or two, but when none came, he changed the subject, suggesting she may wish to leave a grubby second outfit at his home to wear when pulling weeds, which she thought was a good idea. Since he knew about the unfortunate marking on her arm, she stopped bothering to use a Glamour or long sleeves to cover it, which made working outside much less unpleasant on the hot days. Though it wasn't a good time to plant most magical herbs, she wanted to ensure the land would be ready once the air and soil began to cool a bit so he could grow his own ingredients.

As of late July, six weeks into their arrangement, he was still talking a lot, shedding his formidable façade, and though she had abandoned the "do not speak unless spoken to" pretense, she sometimes found it difficult to get a word in edgewise. This lead her to wonder whether he'd had all of these thoughts and words stored up for years, merely awaiting the opportunity to share them with someone.

To her surprise, though she was usually a talker, she didn't mind listening.

She therefore found herself not only looking forward to work, but coming up with conversation starters for them during her off-time, too, just in case they reached an awkward lull. When the clock struck five each evening, she'd reluctantly bid him goodnight, accept a piece of whatever he'd baked earlier in the day, collect her wages, and reaffirm her intention to return in two days. He _always_ asked her whether she intended to return in two days.

He found himself dreading the weekends – all that silence – whereas she found herself actually enjoying weekends again, taking the kids to museums, to Muggle movies, out for ice cream, clothes shopping… basically doing all that they'd been denied on account of her post-divorce poverty.

She even bought Henry a dump truck.

Not that she was wasteful with the money. And she certainly wasn't going to start spoiling them. Once the back rent was entirely caught up, she was able to open a saving account at Gringotts, setting aside whatever she could spare for future expenses… maybe even a short vacation next summer, should the position last.

Then, one Monday, she didn't turn up for work.

She wasn't there when the clock chimed three.

She wasn't there at three-ten.

She wasn't there at twenty after.

And still not there at half-past.

Why?

Had she quit? Taken off? Was she hurt? Or, Merlin forbid, dead?

They'd had an awkward exchange the Friday before. He'd made the mistake of inquiring again about her time at the Ministry, wrongfully thinking they'd reached the point at which she might tell him why she'd so abruptly departed.

"It seems unlike you, abandoning a position without notice, much to the detriment of the department and the presumed upset of your immediate boss. I'd like to understand…"

"There's nothing to understand," she'd coolly informed him, tossing back her thick hair in a haughty way that reminded him most unpleasantly of Bellatrix. "Except this: I have no desire to discuss anything so personal and think it would be best if we keep our conversations to work-related topics in the future."

"Of course," he'd replied with equal frigidity, hoping to hide his hurt at her response. "I was merely enquiring as I do not wish to end up in the same position as the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, scrambling for a last-minute replacement."

"I assure you, _Professor_ , should I decide to vacate this position I will first present you with two weeks' notice, barring any major and unforeseeable disasters."

He hated it when she called him Professor. It was a term meant to distance them, to remind him of who he'd been, and who she was, to reverse their developing familiarity and prevent it from blossoming into a friendship.

He responded in kind.

"I would appreciate that, Ms. Granger."

For the next half-hour she'd worked without speaking, using a combination of magic and elbow grease to scrub and polish the gardening tools while he watched, pretending to be engrossed in a book he'd read a thousand times before, Oliver Twist.

When it came time to degnome again he'd tried to help and failed on account of the weakness in his upper arms, dropping the scrubby thing about a foot behind him rather than flinging it over the garden's high fence. Frustrated, he'd let out a string of swears the neighbors probably heard despite her quickly cast Muffliato. He then kicked a rock, causing pain of a different nature, which elicited from him several more choice words. Suddenly exhausted from his seven-second tirade, he doubled over, eyes clenched tightly shut, and wished he had pain potion in his pocket. She released the gnome in her own hand, letting it soar over the fence toward the hill that led down to the river, and rushed to his side. She eased him onto the wooden bench by the cracked and crooked bird bath, upon which he'd placed the book, and asked whether he needed anything.

"My bloody life back," he almost answered, but he suppressed the urge to express frustration over his situation with her. He told himself it was because he didn't want her to feel guilty for having saved him since it resigned him to this horrid half-life, but the truth was, he just didn't want her to know how pathetic and broken he felt.

"You need to exercise," she said using the same tone in which he frequently told her, "You need to eat."

"I exercise," he insisted, though unless satisfying himself in the shower while thinking about her counted, this was a lie.

"You told me last month you didn't want to let yourself atrophy, but that's essentially what you're doing." Gently she wrapped her slim fingers around his thin forearm, right over his Dark Mark, as if the skull and serpent wasn't there. She slipped the other hand up to his bicep, feeling for a muscle that barely existed. "You haven't lifted anything heavier than a casserole dish in years, have you?"

He refused to respond, which she took to be confirmation.

"Why on earth did you try to toss that gnome if you knew…?" Realization dawned on her. "Oh!" Without registering her action, she began to massage his upper arm, her lips curling into a sly smile. "You were showing off for me."

"I most certainly was not!" he spat out, pulling away from her touch. "I would do no such thing. I merely thought I could… help."

"You hired _me_ to help. But if _you_ would like to increase your physical strength and stamina, I could work with you on that."

He raised one eyebrow at 'stamina' and scoffed.

"There is nothing wrong with my stamina," he assured her, borrowing her words from their first meeting. "Rest assured that both my _strength_ and my _stamina_ are as _enviable_ as they ever were."

She went pink from her chest up to the tips of her ears.

"I mean… I meant… I could… I didn't mean… I… I simply… I just…"

He smirked over having flustered her so, glad to have regained the upper hand. "Aside from pain, I have no issues that limit me physically," he lied. "Don't worry yourself over it."

"I… I won't," she promised, though she didn't believe him. "But you… Sit there. Sit and read. Relax. Don't exert yourself further. I'll finish the degnoming."

His eyes narrowed, the smirk gone.

"Very well."

He did not reach for the book. He could tell she knew he was lying about his physical well-being, he could see it in the look of pity in her eyes. Unable to accept this, he sat and pouted, feeling sorry for himself, and – though she'd never tell him so – greatly resembling her three-year-old son during Time Away.

For the first time in weeks they were both relieved when the clock struck five.

He'd been looking forward to her return for days, wanting to reestablish himself as a imposing, brilliant, occasionally snide but generally stoic wizard, the man he had been for all those years at Hogwarts. (That's how he liked to see himself, anyway.)

Contrary, perhaps, to his aforementioned intentions, he'd baked a cherry pie and intended to send her home with it.

But she hadn't shown.

Damn it.

He'd known she was bothered by his pestering questions, and she'd known he was bothered by having shown such weakness in front of her, but surely that was no reason for her to do to him what she'd done to the Ministry and simply… quit. Right?

Driven by a mix of fury and worry, he Flooed directly to the Ministry, seeking her home address. If anyone had it, they would.

And they did.

Now it was twenty after four. He Flooed back home in case she'd arrived late but found the house empty, even though his wards currently allowed for her to enter without his express permission.

He closed his eyes, pictured her face and her address, and apparated.

-0-0-0-

In the little London flat, Hermione rushed from room to room, overwhelmed and on the verge of tears. She wasn't going to make it to work. He was probably going to get fed up and fire her, especially considering their cold conversation about her abrupt departure from the Ministry. He probably thought she had something to hide. Which she did, several things actually, but that was beside the point.

"Fuck," she swore in a whisper, hoping the children wouldn't overhear.

Why this?

Why now?

-0-0-0-

He stood outside the door to her flat for a good five minutes catching his breath while questioning his decision to track her down before finally convincing himself she might be hurt and therefore need him, justifying his impromptu visit.

He knocked.

He knocked again.

When there was no response after the third knock, he reached down and turned the brass doorknob.

It was locked.

"Alohamora," he murmured, tapping the knob with the tip of his wand.

It worked.

He scoffed at how easy it was. She was in serious need of better wards to keep out intruders. Anyone with a wand could just walk right in.

He shut the door quietly behind him, relocking it with a muttered incantation before glancing around. He was standing in a shallow alcove. To his left was the kitchen. To his right, a sitting room. The two were not separated by a wall. He barely registered his surroundings, only vaguely noticing what little furniture she possessed, which included a worn couch with a brightly colored afghan tossed over the back and a kitchen table surrounded by four rickety wooden chairs. He didn't take the time to recognize the high chair pushed against the kitchen counter near the sink or the well-loved rag doll on the floor by the front window or the dump truck next to five pairs of trainers ranging in size from bitty to adult that were discarded carelessly by the door.

"Ms. Granger?" he called tentatively, taking a step further into the space. "Hermione?"

"Is someone there?" she came rushing out from the back of the flat, stopping dead in her tracks upon sight of him, as if he were a ghost. "The bloody hell are you doing here?" she hissed, stepping to him and grabbing his bicep. He winced at the pain but she did not loosen her grip.

"I want to know why you didn't show up for work today."

"I sent a Patronus half an hour ago!"

"I did not receive it." That would've been while he was at the Ministry. "And besides, half an hour ago you were already considerably tardy."

"I said I had a personal issue! I said I was sorry!"

"What is this personal issue?"

"None of your bloody business, that's what!"

He was taken aback by this. She's been distant with him on a couple of prior occasions and angry on a couple more, but never like this. She looked panicked and afraid as she dug her nails into his upper arm. He considered informing her that she was hurting him, but said instead, "As your employer, I deserve to know what's kept you away. If nothing else, it would have been polite to give an excuse."

"I supposed you should consider me ill-mannered, then. Now, could you leave? Unless you consider this cause for termination, I shall see you in forty-eight hours, as I said via Patronus!"

"I may consider your rudeness and thoughtfulness cause for termination, Ms. Grang…"

A wail from the next room cut off the rest of her name. Her eyes widened fearfully. She released his arm and stepped back as if stricken. The wailing continued.

"Is that…" He leaned forward slightly, like being six inches closer to the sound might help make sense of it. "Do you have a baby?"

"Yes," she confessed in a whisper, eyes watering as if having produced a child was something be deeply ashamed of. "I have a baby."

A lone tear trickled down her cheek and dripped off her chin, followed by a second, then a third, and suddenly he felt like a monster. Not that it was entirely his fault. She'd been working for him for weeks. At any time she could have told him she had a baby. He wondered if this meant she also had a… a _significant other_ of some sort. Perhaps a man she was reluctant to admit attachment to. Perhaps he was married. Perhaps this was why she'd suddenly vacated her position in Magical Law Enforcement. This notion caused him a pang of hurt and irritation. But he couldn't tell her off, not now… now while tears were streaming freely down her cheeks.

"Why didn't you tell me you have a baby?" he asked gently.

"I… Because… I have… I…"

"Mummy? I no feels good."

In toddled a boy, no older than three. He had tussled dark blond hair and Hermione's cinnamon eyes. He looked slightly undernourished and a twinge green and was holding his tummy. Grayish glops of something only half-digested clung to his shirt. The smell of sickness wafted through the air, irritating Severus' over-large and sensitive nose. He sneered. The wailing from the next room continued.

"A baby _and_ a toddler?"

"Mummy!" A little girl rushed into the main room. She, too, had her mother's eyes, but unlike the boy, she also had Hermione's bushy brown hair. "Henry just threw up all over the bed! It's everywhere!"

"A baby, a toddler, _and_ an older child?" Severus arched his eyebrow, the sneer replaced by incredulity. In his research of her, which, apparently, hadn't been as thorough as it probably could have been, not a single person had mentioned Hermione Granger was the mother of three children!

"I'm so sorry! I tried to keep them in the bedroom!" A plump, freckle-faced redhead bounded in next, the wailing baby in her arms.

"And a…" Severus began. "Merlin's beard, Ms. Granger, how many children do you have?"

"The twelve-year-old isn't mine," she said tersely, reaching for the wailing, flailing baby.

"Eloise, you can go home, dear. Thanks for all your help this afternoon, but I can't expect you to sit for hours with sick children. Can I pay you tomorrow?"

"Sure. Sorry about your bed!" Eloise looked up at Severus Snape the way most of his first year students had in the past – with fearful apprehension – before hurriedly pulling on her shoes and rushing out the door. "Bye!"

"These three are yours?" asked Severus, waving his wand to Vanish the vomit splattered across the gray and red fire truck shirt of the boy called Henry.

"Yes." Hermione bounced the baby, rubbing her back, soothing her. She avoided eye contact with him but sensed he was looking upon her and her offspring with concern. She resented that concern as much as he resented her pity.

"You didn't tell me you have children."

"You didn't ask."

"This is why you put out that ad…" Glancing around the sparsely furnished two-room flat, it was finally making sense. This is why she'd been desperate for money. This is why she'd gotten so thin. This is why she never ate the baked goods with him, opting instead to take them home, presumably to share with her skinny armed little ones. "Where's their father?"

"We're divorced."

"Doesn't he pay child support?"

"He's dead."

"Why divorce him if he was dead?"

"I divorced him before he died."

"I see."

"Are we through?" Hermione bent down to pick up Henry, balancing the baby on her right hip. She tried to maintain some sense of professionalism as she straightened to face him. "As you can see, Professor, all three of them are sick, thus I cannot work for you today. So long as I'm not being terminated, I will see you the day after tomorrow."

"You're not terminated," he said softly. Did she really think him so cruel as to fire her for the crime of single motherhood?

"Mumma!" cried the baby, wriggling and dipping herself back.

"My tummy huhhhts!" whined Henry, lurching as though he might vomit again.

"Mine too," said the girl. "Mummy? My tummy hurts too." She reached up her arms, as if Hermione should be capable of holding up all three little ones at once.

"Helena, I…" Hermione's nose twitched. Two more tears managed to make their way down her cheeks. "You're a big girl, Love. If you feel you're going to be sick, please try to throw up in the toilet."

"Mum-mmmeeee!" moaned Henry, who was slipping down his mother's hip. She struggled to keep him up because of the baby's squirming.

Though he'd never held a toddler before and, frankly, had never really cared for them in general, Severus felt compelled to assist in some way. He reached for the boy, grasping him under his tiny armpits, then balanced him on his hip the way Hermione was doing with the baby. She let her now free arm fall by her side, looking at once shocked, appreciative, and utterly dejected.

"It's not easy, you know," she said quietly. The girl called Helena moved to her mother's side, wrapping her legs in a hug. Hermione stroked her daughter's thick hair and stared at Severus, awaiting his reaction, certain he'd be furious at her for this omission. "Well? Say something, please."

"I have a stomach settling solution that may be of help to him," replied Severus, ignoring the discomfort it caused him to hold this child in his weak arms. The boy weighed approximately the same as a gnome, and, at the moment, smelled equally vile, despite being considerably cuter. He pressed the back of his hand to the boy's forehead. "A fever reducer, too. I can return home for them."

"That's not necessary…" Hermione began, fundamentally averse to accepting charity from anyone, least of all him. But when Henry rested his pale cheek against Severus' shoulder, too exhausted and sick to hold his little head up, she relented. "I suppose I wouldn't say no."

"Think nothing of it." He carried Henry to the couch and gently set him down, covering him with the afghan. "You wait here," he said, hoping his tone wouldn't frighten the boy (despite his many, many years of teaching, he was absolute rubbish when it came to interacting with children). "Are you connected to the Floo network, Ms. Granger? I find it less taxing than apparition." He didn't mention that he was already exhausted both from having already apparated that afternoon and from the couple of minutes he spent supporting the weight of the boy.

"It's Hermione," she said, finally granting him permission to use her first name. "Yes, we're connected," she added, indicating a ceramic bowl set on the center of the mantle. He nodded, relieved, pinched a bit of powder from the bowl, and stepped into the flames.

"Snape home. Spinner's End."

* * *

 **A/N: Some of your questions/comments in the reviews and two PMs made me laugh because it's like you've read my mind! I won't give any spoilers for upcoming chapters or plot points except to answer a Q from a PM that others might have too: No, there's no DM/HG in this fic. Draco's not her ex-husband and they won't end up dating (HGSS all the way! lol). Sorry if this is disappointing to DM/HG fans, but there's something else going on here. Thanks for reading! Please drop a note to let me know what you think, what you love/hate, or what you'd like to see. I'm basically a Niffler and reviews are my favorite shiny objects. Ha. Thx! -AL**


	8. Sleep, Perchance to Dream

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

 **To sleep perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

One week and three days after the day she failed to show up for work, Severus and Hermione had their first fight.

"This is precisely why I didn't tell you about my children!" she shouted. "I don't need your bloody charity!"

"Just take it!" he insisted, waving his wand to make the wrapped ham hover closer to her. "Consider it a gift."

"I don't take gifts from my employers!"

"You took the blueberry scones!"

"That was different! Those were a Happy Half-Christmas present!"

"For fuck's sake, consider this a bonus, then."

"My salary is quite enough!"

"Stop clinging to your pride like it's the last life vest on a sinking ship and take the damn ham!"

"I made it for you!"

"I helped you make it!"

"We made it together for you to eat!"

"I've decided I'm not hungry!"

"That's ridiculous!"

"You're ridiculous!"

"You're right!" She let out a scream of frustration. "You're right, I _am_ ridiculous! But I need to be. I can't go getting used to relying on anybody, understand? It won't be good for me to start living like a kept woman!"

"A kept…! A kept…" The annoyance drained from his face, replaced by amusement. "A kept woman?" He sniggered. "Isn't 'kept woman' typically a term used to describe the mistress of a wealthy married man who provides a residence and luxuries for her in exchange for regular sex and her silence?"

"It's… in this situation… I mean, I… I knew it was not entirely accurate, but… It was the spirit in which the term…"

"Would you _like_ to be a kept woman?" he asked, voice low. He cocked one eyebrow in that way she found both infuriating and inexplicably attractive. "I don't consider myself a wealthy man, nor am I married, but I suppose with a little effort on my part and a few concessions on yours, we could…"

"Sod off, you prat."

"Keep talking to me like that and I'll go back to my wife," he teased. "She's happy to eat my ham."

Hermione blushed but refused to let him win this one. "Is she? Last I heard she wasn't at all content with what you've got to offer. She said when it comes to fulfilling her meat-based needs, the Diagon Alley butcher does it better."

"Did she?" He took a step closer, smirking when she involuntarily shivered. "How perfectly _vulgar_ of her. That is _precisely_ why I keep a woman on the side."

"On the side of what?" Hermione asked, hoping he couldn't sense her quickening pulse.

"On the other side of the bed, I suppose. I never gave it much thought before."

They were standing toe-to-toe. She jutted up her chin and pushed out her chest, vaguely calling to his mind a Frigatebird puffing itself up to appear larger.

"I'd be willing to bet you've given it _plenty_ of thought, _Professor_ ," she purred, for the first time using this title in a way he found… agreeable. His eyes darkened, narrowing for effect.

"What do you know of the things I think, _witch_?"

"I know that, when it comes to certain matters, all wizards think alike. Especially those of you who are simultaneously attempting to _satisfy_ both your wife and your…" She blinked twice, her eyes round with faux innocence. "What was that term again?"

"Kept… woman."

"Yes, that's it. Your kept woman." Her voice was just above a whisper, her curious, wide eyes meeting his narrowed ones, as her breasts ever-so-slightly brushed against his chest, signaling to his brain sensations of both pleasure and pain. Despite the enjoyment he'd been getting from this interaction only a moment ago, he froze. He wanted nothing more than to place one hand securely at her waist, cup her cheek with the other, and snog the self-satisfied smirk right off her pretty pink lips. He wanted to kiss her until her knees were weak, until she was clinging desperately to his chest, until she was begging in a whisper for him to take her upstairs...

But what if he was reading her all wrong?

Or what if – _much worse_ – he was reading her correctly and she was as eager as he but then he was unable to make it happen, on account of the general pain and the skin sensitivity and the muscle weakness and how long it had been and the fact that his _stamina_ was, in truth, not what it used to be?

"Take the ham, Ms. Granger," he demanded in his no-nonsense professor tone, backing away. "I'm genuinely not hungry and I'd hate for all that food to go to waste."

"Very well," she said, dropping both the flirtation and the pretense, her shoulders slacking disappointedly. "I'll take the ham. But only if you agree to come to dinner at my place at some point in the near future, so that we'll be even."

"I believe I can fit that into my hectic schedule."

"Good." She pointed her wand at the hovering ham. "In that case, I shall see you in forty-eight hours."

"Forty-six hours," he corrected.

"Yes, excuse me. Forty-six."

-0-0-0-

Shortly thereafter she was home, cutting the ham and pineapple and serving it to the children beside a simple tossed salad. Helena and Henry were both excited to try something new and even baby Hero ate tiny cut up pieces without spitting them out.

"Thank Merlin I don't have picky children!"

"Picky tildwen!" shouted Henry, hoping that first word was a bad one. When his mother didn't scold him, his face took on a momentary pout, but he was distracted back to happiness when she placed another slice of pineapple on his plate.

"I invited my friend Professor Snape to join us for dinner one day soon," she informed the children, smiling at Helena, who was carefully spearing small bites with her fork.

"That's nice, Mummy."

"But before he does, we'll have to work on your table manners." She directed this at Henry, who was trying to twirl the pineapple ring around his index finger.

"Pofessah Snape," said Henry, with a nod to show he was listening, even though he had no idea what his mother meant by 'table manners.' The pineapple ring flew off his finger, landing halfway across the table. He giggled. "Oops!"

"Oh, Henry," sighed Helena, who had adopted this as her favorite phrase. She retrieved the pineapple slice and placed it on his plate. "Whatever are we going to _do_ with you?"

-0-0-0-

Two days later, Hermione arrived at work with a gift (of sorts) for Severus.

"A Streetcar Named Desire," he read off the cover.

"I told you weeks ago I would lend it to you, but the library had it checked out. It's only just been returned."

"Classic American Muggle theatre?"

"Yes."

"Am I going to like it?"

"Probably not."

"Excellent." He set it on the end table beside the couch and added in a monotone, "On account of your rousing recommendation, I look forward to diving in after dinner tonight."

"Speaking of dinner…" She straightened the couch cushions so she wouldn't have to look at him. "How about Saturday?"

"Saturday?"

"You can come to dinner. I'm connected to the Floo Network so you won't have to apparate… unless you're busy?"

"No, not busy. Shall I bring anything?"

"Wine, if you'd like to drink it. I typically have water or milk, same as the children."

"Alright then, wine it is. Do you drink red?"

"I do."

"Good." He smiled.

"Great." She smiled back.

-0-0-0-

Saturday came both too quickly and not quickly enough. Hermione decided to make shepherd's pie, since it was something she knew he enjoyed and that the kids would also enjoy, though she worried Henry would make a mess of it and embarrass her, despite her recent attempts to teach him to use his fork, sit appropriately, and stop wiping messy hands on his clothes.

Helena was excited about having a grown up house guest and promised to be on her best behavior, which wasn't saying much considering she was nearly always on her best behavior.

And baby Hero had no idea anything was different until Severus showed up bearing gifts, including a plush blue elephant for her, which made them instant friends.

"Effent!" she cried, hugging it to her chest before toddling off toward the couch with it.

"You didn't have to bring them anything," said Hermione after she'd thanked him and taken his coat and the bottle of elf made wine.

"I'm not a pleasant person and generally children dislike me, thus I thought it may be prudent to ply them with presents so they'll tolerate my presence. An exchange of presents for presence, get it?"

"Punderful," she joked. But she couldn't help smiling as she watched Helena introduce her new teddy bear to her ragdoll, while Henry sat his stuffed dinosaur in the bed of his dump truck and baby Hero sucked happily on the soft trunk of her "effent."

Dinner was largely uneventful, though Henry did stand up in his chair several times, forget the purpose of his fork, pick his nose once, wipe his hands on both his shirt and his pants multiple times, and say "Sod off!" with a giggle when prompted to use the "magic word" after his request for more milk (Hermione had been looking for "please.").

Helena, on the other hand, attempted to make conversation in the manner she assumed adults did, asking Severus his opinions on the weather, whether he'd read the Daily Prophet recently, and what he thought of "the current wizarding political climate," a phrase she'd overhead in Diagon Alley over the weekend.

Oh, and Hero fell asleep in her highchair during dessert.

For a change, Hermione skipped doing the dishes right after dinner and also decided to forgo the baby's bath rather than wake her. She took Hero into the bedroom, stripped her down to her onesie, changed her diaper, and set her in the crib. She returned to the sitting room to find Severus seated on the couch, deep in confusing conversation with Helena.

"The current market simply isn't self-sustaining," she was saying, one hand on her hip, wagging her finger. "It's almost certainly headed for total collapse."

"What market?" he asked, wondering if she was somehow well-versed in the American stock exchange.

"The vegetable market, I assume," replied Helena, completely serious. "It's the only market I've ever been to and it could fall down at any time. That's what collapse means, you know." The girl clapped him on the arm, nearly causing him to wince. "Professor Snape? You be careful out there."

"Uh..." Severus cleared his throat, searching for the right reply. Finally, he said, "Thank you for the warning."

"Helena, go put on your pajamas, please," said Hermione, trying her hardest not to laugh as she was afraid it would hurt her daughter's feelings.

"What about bath?"

"We can skip it tonight. I already Vanished all the food off your brother and sister. Henry, go with Helena. Once you've changed, brush your teeth."

"Alright, Mummy." Helena grabbed Henry by the hand, pulling him to his feet. He protested, wanting to continue playing with his truck and dinosaur, but the girl assured him he could return to it later. The two little ones rushed from the room.

"Don't wake the baby!" called Hermione.

"We won't!" promised Helena.

"She's you," said Severus, once the children were in the bedroom. "It's uncanny. I never wondered what you were like as a small child, but if I had, now I'd know."

"She's _a bit_ like me," conceded Hermione. "But she's entirely too serious. Always reading. Always obeying the rules. Always _enforcing_ the rules. Always wanting to know everything. Always so intense, especially when learning a new skill. Always trying to seem older than she is, always asking for an explanation, more information, a clarification, just so she can regurgitate the information later. Sometimes she's… this sounds awful, but sometimes she's sort of an…" Hermione dropped her voice to a whisper. "An insufferable know-it-all."

"I repeat," said Severus, barely concealing a grin. "She's _you_. It's as if you took a time-turner, traveled back twenty-four years, and kidnapped your younger self to raise as your own."

"Ha-ha." She rolled her eyes. "I'll have you know, Severus, that while I was inquisitive and eager to learn, I was never insufferable, nor was I a know-it-all."

He scoffed. "Whatever you say, Gryffindor."

She rolled her eyes. "Henry, meanwhile, is nothing like me. He's nothing like his father either. I have no idea where he came from. If he didn't have my ex-husband's hair and my eyes, I'd think St. Mungo's sent us home with the wrong baby."

"He's barely past being a toddler, isn't he?"

She nodded.

"Do they really have defined personalities at that age? No offense intended, but I assumed, before five or so, children are all about the same. Reckless, uncoordinated, loud… mysteriously sticky."

"Oh, not at all!" Hermione laughed, placing her hand on his upper arm where Helena's had been. This caused both a second tingle of pain and a tingle of… well… a different sort of tingle. He'd taken the pain potion that afternoon in preparation for the dinner but it was well on its way to worn off now. "Helena at three was just as she is now, but smaller, and unable to read more than a few words on her own. Henry has far less language than she did at this age, but far more energy. He's impulsive, defiant, and occasionally sneaky, he's hard to get to sleep at night and won't take an afternoon nap, and nothing makes him happier than shouting the f-word at the playground in front of the stuffiest looking rich women with their impeccably dressed well-mannered brats."

"He shouts the f-word?" Severus let out an undignified snort.

"It's not funny! Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to be the mother of the kid who shouts the f-word? Other boys his age at the playground are saying, 'Look, a butterfly!' or 'I love you, Mummy!' or 'See-saw, please?' while my little angel is saying, 'Fuck this, fuck that, fuck you, fuck me, fuck off,' and – my personal favorite – 'what the fuck?'"

"He knows six different used for the work fuck?" Severus struggled to keep a straight face, figuring it would be harder to seem as though he was commiserating if he laughed out loud. "Sounds like he's ahead of his fucking peers."

"That's a bad word, Professor Snape," scolded Helena, reentering the sitting room. "Mummy, didn't you tell him that's a bad word?"

"That's a bad word, Professor," admonished Hermione. "Next time you use it I shall have to send you to Time Away."

"My apologies, Helena." He managed to appear sufficiently chastened. "Forgive me?"

"Everyone makes mistakes," she answered sagely. Hermione snickered, turning her head so the girl wouldn't see. Helena plucked Henry's dinosaur from the back of the dump truck. "I'm going to read Henry a story but he wanted this first."

"Are you putting him to bed?" asked Hermione. Helena nodded. She pointed at the clock on the wall, which had been given to Hermione (and Ron) by the Weasley's on their first anniversary. It was similar to the one Mrs. Weasley had for keeping track of her family, but rather than locations, it read things like Breakfast, Work, and Bedtime. Molly had said they could update it someday, once they had children. Hermione had offered it to Ron during the divorce but he hadn't wanted it. "It's time, see, Mummy?"

"So it is. Come give Mummy kisses. Henry?" He ran in, saw his new dinosaur in his sister's hand, and snatched it away with a grunt. "Goodnight, my loves."

Both children stepped forward for a smooch. Helena then turned to Severus and stuck out her hand for him to shake, which he did, looking amused. Henry, on the other hand, patted Severus on the knee and said simply, "Night-night, Pofessah."

Severus and Hermione sat on the couch and talked for nearly two hours after the children fell asleep, mostly about A Streetcar Named Desire, and his belief that British writers were far superior to American ones ("With the notable exception of Mark Twain!"). They discussed stories both had read, debating their merits and quoting favorite lines. When he made her laugh she touched his arm. When he made her angry he touched her knee.

Two thirds of the way through the bottle of wine, he asked whether it was coincidence that her children shared their names with Shakespearean characters.

"Not a coincidence at all. Their names come from A Midsummer Night's Dream, Henry V, and–"

"And Much Ado About Nothing," he supplied. This was the play from which he'd gotten the quote about redemption that had sparked her desire to make him read Streetcar in the first place. She smiled and for one crazy moment he considered trying to hold her hand, like a teenager on a first date. Thankfully he quashed the notion before he had the chance to embarrass himself.

Around ten the potion had worn off completely, thus the pain returned tenfold. His body clearly resented having been out and about for hours, even though he'd spent most of that time seated. He therefore decided to head home to Spinner's End via Floo Network.

"I'll see you Monday," she said. "Thanks again for the toys for the children. And for the wine."

"Thank you for the dinner," he said. "And for the company."

They stared awkwardly at each other, unsure of what to do next.

"Well… goodnight then." He stuck out his hand to shake hers, as Helena had hours earlier. Hermione giggled. With her other hand, she gently patted his shoulder.

"Night-night, Professor."

He grabbed a pinch of powder and stepped into the fireplace.

A moment later, he was home.

She finished off the bottle of wine on her own.

-0-0-0-

It was the beginning of a friendship, that's all.

But she was the subject of his dreams that night.

And he featured prominently in hers.

But his dream had ended up happily, and he awoke with a smile.

Whereas hers morphed into a nightmare...

A nightmare she couldn't escape.


	9. All That Lives Must Die

**CHAPTER NINE**

 **All that lives must die.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Hermione couldn't for the life of her understand why she felt nervous while getting ready for work on Monday. It wasn't as if Saturday night had been a date, after all. He'd simply joined her little family for dinner as a thank you.

"It's because you've been alone too long," she muttered, staring at her reflection in the bedroom mirror. "You think dirty thoughts about him because it's safe, because you know nothing will ever happen, because you don't spend time with many grownups, and because it's been _years_ since you last…"

"Since you last what, Mummy?"

Hermione jolted. She hadn't heard the girl come in.

"Nothing, Love. Is Eloise here?"

"Yes. She brought a new puzzle but Henry says he doesn't want to do a puzzle today, he wants to go play at the park."

Hermione glanced at her daughter with surprise. "Henry said all that?"

"He threw the puzzle on the floor and yelled, 'Park, park, park!'"

"That sounds more like him." Hermione glanced at the window, where steady beads of gray water were beating against the glass and dripping downward onto the sill. "It's raining. We'll have to tell him no park today."

"I know. I already told him but all he said was Park, park, park! Henry, park. Henry, park.'"

Hermione flinched. Even though she knew her son was referring to the local playground, hearing that word, their former last name, repeated ad nauseam, made her sick to her stomach. Park. Park. Park. Henry Park. They'd named their children Helena Kate Park, the Kate was for Hermione's mother, and Henry Granger Park. No reference to his parents, as they were estranged, which was something over which they'd bonded but in retrospect should have been a red-flag. After the divorce, Hermione tried to keep from speaking badly of the man in front of his children, though Henry, of course, picked right up on it when she referred to him as a "bastard" in conversation with Mrs Weasley, who'd paid an unexpected sympathy visit upon hearing the news. Hermione thought - well, hoped - that perhaps Reginald would be able to put his life back together someday and return to them, not as a husband for her, but as a father to his children. Their children.

But then, back in April, Reginald Park died under suspicious circumstances. Murdered, Hermione suspected. After that it seemed silly to hold on to any ties to him – perhaps even dangerous – thus she had the children's names legally changed to Helena Kate Granger and Henry John Granger, the John being for her father. At least she'd had the foresight not to give baby Hero Grace her husband's last name in the first place.

"Mummy?" Helena tugged at her mother's long gray tunic, which she wore today over black leggings. "Alright, Mummy?"

"Sorry, Helena." Hermione tugged one of the girl's braids affectionately. "Lost in thought, that's all. Let's go see if we can get Henry interested in that puzzle before I go."

But she could already hear Henry chanting in the next room: "Henwy, pahk! Henwy, pahk!"

-0-0-0-

Severus couldn't for the life of him figure out why he felt nervous. He was a man who had, on countless occasions, lied in the face of the Dark Lord. He bore the Dark Mark and answered its call, even long after it ceased to be a badge of honor. He battled valued friends, unable to reveal his true loyalties, and feigned allegiance with other friends, too smart to let them learn the truth. Before his twentieth birthday, he willingly offered up his life to Dumbledore to atone for prior sins. At age thirty-eight, he faced death and accepted it on the floor of the Shrieking Shack.

He was, unquestionably, no coward.

So why was he worried about her impending arrival?

He smoothed an imaginary crease in the leg of his trousers then headed to the liquor cabinet for elf made red wine to soothe his nerves.

It wasn't as if last Saturday night had been a date. She'd merely invited him to dinner as a thank you.

But when it came time to leave, before they shook hands, he'd briefly let his gaze shift from her eyes to her lips and wondered what it would be like to kiss her.

"Stop it," he scolded himself, pouring a larger glass than he'd usually consume in the middle of the day. "You're manufacturing feelings that aren't there, simply because you've been without regular human contact for too long. She does not return here every other day because she enjoys the pleasure of your company – no one has ever truly enjoyed the pleasure of your company – she does it because you pay her well for her time and she has three children to feed. It's not personal and you have no cause to try to impress her. Even attempting to do so is pathetic and beneath you."

The tip of his wand lit up and blinked, indicating it was time to remove the chocolate cake from the oven. He set down his wine glass and hurried to the kitchen, his right foot slightly dragging.

"You're a bloody house wife," he grumbled as he held the cake between potholders and removed it from the oven. Until recently, he'd been using magic for things like this, but after she expressed doubt that he could lift anything heavier than a casserole dish he'd taken to trying to do more manual labor, to build up his strength. This had been a frequent request from his visiting nurse too, but somehow it mattered more when coming from Hermione Granger.

Hermione Granger.

Who was she, anyway?

He knew who she'd been:

-An annoying kid with high marks on and an answer for everything.

-A bit high-strung, especially around exams.

-Close friends with a couple of ego-inflated dunderheads.

-Bossy.

-Mature.

-Head Girl material.

She'd had a high sense of morality too, at least according to McGonagall, who lamented the girl's altruistic but misguided attempts to free the Hogwarts house elves by manipulating them into accepting clothes.

That was fifteen years ago, though. Who was she, _now?_

-A twice divorced mother of three.

-A capable potions mistress.

-A lover of literature.

-Stubborn.

-Secretive.

-Enticing.

-Attractive.

-Brilliant. Frustrating.

He grunted, bumping the oven door shut with his knee, feeling useless and irritable, as was his usual state whenever she wasn't around.

The cake would need to cool before it could be frosted. What to do in the interim? Sit. And wait.

He returned to the sitting room, seeking a book, hoping some of his old fictional friends could provide a distraction. He needed a break from this melancholy, but finding nothing that interested him he grabbed his wine and settled on the couch to await her arrival. He smoothed another imaginary wrinkle from his trousers, debated buttoning up the wizard's robe he wore loosely over his Muggle attire, and combed through his nearly shoulder-length black hair with his fingers. He wondered whether she'd be able to tell that he'd spent a good portion of his Sunday lifting heavy gardening tools he'd transfigured into weights and taking the stairs without the aid of his cane.

"For fuck's sake, Severus," he said aloud. He needed more wine. Rather than go through the draining struggle of getting up again, he summoned over the bottle, wondering if it would be improper to offer her a glass upon her arrival.

He felt a bit like the beast from the old French fairy tale, trying to convince the beautiful Belle he was human enough to love.

Not that he wanted her to love him.

But he did hope she was finding him more… human.

-0-0-0-

She wanted to frost the cake.

"I love cake decorating! When I was a girl, my mother and I used to spend hours in the kitchen. She taught me to make little piped roses and frilly borders and… and… she… My mother…" Hermione broke off, a look of sadness overtaking the smile that had just been on her lips. "Perhaps someday I'll teach my children."

"Tell me about your parents."

He was sitting at the kitchen table, using his wand to put away the groceries she'd bought for him over the weekend while she mixed frosting. He's started off putting everything away by hand but found it more taxing than it should have been, likely because he was still recovering from yesterday's ridiculous work out sessions in the garden.

"They were both dentists. Muggle Healers for the teeth."

"I've been to the dentist. My father was a Muggle." He spat out that second sentence with disdain, but she knew from what little he'd revealed and what Harry had told her years ago that this vitriol was directed at his father for the awful man he was, not for the fact he was non-magic.

"They were wonderful parents. And they doted on me. When Professor McGonagall came to our home the summer before I turned twelve to explain about Hogwarts, they were confused but excited. They believed her straight away on account of all the strange things I'd been doing since babyhood. They said they'd always known I was different, special. They never quite understood our world and knew they'd never be part of it, but they wanted it for me…"

She kept talking without pause while frosting the cake, and by the time she reached the war with Voldemort it seemed as though she'd forgotten Severus was in the room.

"It was a powerful Obliviation charm, but I truly felt I'd be able to reverse it later. I overestimated my abilities. Or, perhaps, underestimated them, as I didn't consider how truly powerful my initial Obliviation would be. I had them brought to St. Mungo's. They stayed for two weeks, undergoing tests. All Healers agreed: the charm cannot be undone without causing significant…" The tiny white flowers she was creating along the cake's border began to get sloppier, indicating her mind was no longer on the task at hand. "It's my own fault. I erased myself from their memories without even asking them. I don't have the right to lament my inability to get them back. They live very happily in Australia. They're still dentists. They go on adventures together, vacations, excursions. They're not missing me. Though I wonder sometimes if my mother ever looks and my father and says, 'John, do you regret not having children?' Or if my father ever turns to my mother and says, 'It's not too late. We could still become parents…' Even though they can't remember, I wonder if they ever feel a void where I used to be…" Her head bowed and even though he couldn't see her face, he knew she was silently crying.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. She did not turn around. After a few moments, she resumed the frosting, adding the last three flowers around the round cake's top border before moving onto the bottom.

"Do you spend much time with Harry Potter?" he asked, figuring she and Weasley were on the outs, but that was no reason not to see The Chosen One on occasion.

"I don't have much in common with my old friends anymore," she said. "We've grown apart. I suppose that happens."

"I can commiserate," said Severus. "I have had very few friends in my life. Lily Evans, who is dead. Evan Rosier, who is dead. Charity Burbage, who is dead. Lucius Malfoy, to whom I'm dead. It's not quite the same, I know."

"Lucius Malfoy considers you dead?"

"He was not exactly chuffed to learn I'd been disloyal to the Dark Lord for the better part of eighteen years. He paid a visit shortly after I returned home to let me know he didn't feel he knew me anymore, he wondered if he ever had. I had nothing to say to that and he left rather dissatisfied with the conversation, I presume."

"No great loss."

"I still consider myself somewhat friendly with his wife, however. Narcissa writes to me on occasion and I respond."

"Don't speak her name to me," said Hermione with unusual harshness as the rose she was forming collapsed into a blob. Severus, recalling how upset she'd gotten last time the Malfoys were discussed, did not pry.

"Minerva was one of my favorite colleagues. A challenging opponent in wizard's chess, a good conversationalist, equally unenthused about mandatory staff parties, a decent rival on the Quidditch front. We bet on the matches, as did Fillius and some of the other professors, though Dumbledore didn't approve."

"You bet on the matches?" Hermione pursed her lips. She was absolutely, unquestionably against gambling of any sort, but as it had happened over a decade ago, she didn't see the need to lecture him on it now.

"I lost my shirt, so to speak, in 1996 when your Ronald Weasley managed an upset in the game over Ravenclaw, winning Gryffindor the House Cup. No one, not even McGonagall, had expected that."

"Then who did you lose to?"

"Minerva. She may not have anticipated the win, but she'd never wager against her own team. She hedged her bet out of loyalty and made a small fortune that day. Fillius was furious. He lost ten galleons he'd earmarked for a custom-made robe he'd already ordered. Pomona said it served him right for spending what he didn't have."

"Professor Sprout didn't approve of gambling either?"

"No, she approved. She was simply bitter because she'd lost a good number of galleons too. She thought Ravenclaw would win but Gryffindor would get the snitch."

Despite her disapproval, Hermione let out a small snort of laughter. "Is Professor McGonagall still your friend?"

"Our relationship changed the year I was Headmaster… It was terribly isolating, killing Dumbledore. Even after the truth came out… I was in recovery, you see… and… Things change, I suppose. People change. She visited me several times in the convalescent home and twice here, trying to coax me back out into the world, but I asked her not to return. Too many… reminders. Even though I was able to help the Order by remaining a Death Eater, I am not proud of the man I was."

Hermione nodded, her back to him, as she added the last of the piped white roses to the bottom of the now-frosted chocolate cake.

"I didn't know."

"Excuse me?"

Now, finally, she faced him. Her eyes were slightly red-rimmed from crying a short time before, but currently free from tears. She looked him over appraisingly.

"I didn't know you were a hero when I saved your life. Harry had the memories. I hadn't seen them."

"Then why did you save me?"

"Because I thought I could."

"You thought I was the enemy."

"No."

"You just said…"

"I didn't know you were a hero. But I knew you were not the enemy."

"That doesn't make sense."

"I had a feeling. Dumbledore trusted you. I trusted Dumbledore. Plus you could have killed Harry at any time. You could have let Quirrell do it our first year. You could have let Remus attack us while in his werewolf form. You had Harry in your office alone every time he had an Occlumency lesson, you could have harmed him then. You were able to freely enter and exit Grimmauld Place while we were staying there. You had ample opportunity and never once seized it. Besides… you were a professor."

"You cannot trust a person simply because he or she is a professor. I should think several of Dumbledore's Defense Against the Dark Arts appointments would have taught you that."

"When Remus transformed outside the Whomping Willow, you didn't even hesitate. We were arguably your three least favorite students, one of whom was the greatest enemy of your supposed master, and yet you placed yourself in front of us, all of us, essentially prepared to die rather than see us come to harm."

"I was required to do so. As you said, I was a professor. Had I let you three die, Dumbledore might have considered terminating my employment and I can't imagine anyone else would have been clamoring to hire me, despite my immeasurable good looks, undeniable charisma, and winning personality." He said this in an extremely dry tone that made her giggle. "I had no choice but to keep you rule-breaking brats from becoming werewolf chow."

"You can tone the snark down a notch, Professor Personality." She sat across from him at the kitchen table and waved her wand to put the kettle on. "You did it because it was the right thing to do."

"I did it because I was the adult and you were children and letting you die would have cost me my career. It was a selfish decision. Out of character, really, as I am typically such a selfless man."

"You're modest too."

"Thank you."

She snorted.

"Anyone would have done it," Severus insisted, this time expressing genuine humility.

"No. Other Death Eaters wouldn't have done it. Hell, other professors wouldn't have done it. Lockhart would have taken off running. Umbridge would've been content to see us torn to pieces. Trelawney probably would've assumed she was staring down the Grim instead of a werewolf and dropped dead from shock."

He couldn't help smirking in a slightly self-satisfied way. "That's true. I was a better professor than Lockhart the fraud, Umbridge the sadist, and Trelawney the daft. If I may be so bold as to brag for a moment, I think I was also a better professor than both the fake Mad-Eye Moody and Quirinus Quirrell during the year in which Voldemort was stuck to the back of his head."

"Plus, your Potions lectures weren't half as soporific as Binns' History of Magic!"

"Thank you, Hermione, for your assurance that I was livelier than a literal dead man."

"Not by much," she clarified cheekily. "But enough."

"It _is_ gratifying to know I wasn't your worst professor. And, to be fair, I should probably admit that you were _not_ my worst student."

"Worst?" She attempted to raise one eyebrow but wasn't quite adept at it. Still, he got the idea. "I would venture to guess I was one of your best. Among your top ten all-time most talented. If you had a Slug Club – or a Snape Club or a Bat Club or whatever you would have called it – I would've been first on your invitation list. I was brilliant, remember? The brightest witch of my age. Top marks across the board. Gryffindor Prefect. A shoo-in for Head Girl. Every professor's dream!"

"I am terribly sorry to burst your bubble, _Miss_ Granger, but when you were my student you were never once the subject of my dreams."

"When I was your student," she said. "But what about now?"

He was saved from having to respond by the whistling of the tea kettle. She went to the counter to prepare their tea by hand rather than by magic.

Once the tea was prepared, she settled back into her chair across from him, passing him a cup.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked. The jovial, flirtatious quality was gone from her voice.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you angry with me? For disobeying your order."

"Which order?" Was she talking about his mid-June decree that she keep conversation from getting personal? If so, what an odd question.

"When I found you in the Shrieking Shack, when I revived you, you looked at me for a long moment."

"I… remember."

"I said I was there to save you, that you were going to be alright."

"Alright."

"I said Healers were on their way. I said we'd get you to St. Mungo's."

He didn't remember her saying any of this. All he could vividly recall were her sharp, cinnamon eyes, surrounded by hazy, soft features and frazzled hair.

"I promised we'd do whatever we could to keep you alive. I begged you not to give up."

"And I gave you an order? One you disobeyed?"

She took in a deep gulp of air and let it out slowly before continuing. He waited, sipping his tea, wishing he could remember, and yet grateful he couldn't.

"Hermione?" he prompted. She let out her next words in a rush, as if she wouldn't be able to say it all if she had to pause to take a breath mid-explanation.

"'Let me die,' you said. It was all you would say. You said it over and over. 'Let me die.' But I couldn't. I wouldn't. And I'm glad I didn't. But when you… when you had to testify, to confirm Harry's story, to swear to everything he'd seen in the Pensieve, you looked at me… At one point, you looked at me, and you thanked me, and… I've got no propensity for Legilimency, Severus, but I knew you weren't grateful. Quite the opposite, really. You glared at me with sheer resentment. And then they put you in that coma after which you were hospitalized for so many years and even now…" She went pink and averted her gaze, focusing on the saucer beneath her teacup. "If you're angry at me, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you're angry. But I won't apologize for saving you. I'm… I'm glad I saved you."

"I…"

Before he could get out a second word, she grasped his hand and stood, moving closer to him.

"Please tell me you're not angry."

"I'm… not… anymore."

"But you were?"

He ducked his head, letting a curtain of hair fall across his face, shielding him from her. "At times."

"I couldn't let you die."

"I know."

"I did what I thought was right."

"I know."

"I didn't stop to consider your feelings, to consider that you might mean it when you said you didn't want to live. I presumed to know better about what you wanted than you did."

He closed his eyes.

"I know. I'm not angry anymore. As the Healers kept telling me during my convalescence, if it had been my time to die, I'd be dead."

"We all die, eventually," she said softly. "But I couldn't let you die that night."

"I know."

She placed her index finger gently under his chin, coaxing his head up and waiting until he was looking at her, then brushed his hair out of his face with her free right hand, still holding his left.

"Severus? If I could go back, I'd save you again."

He brought up their hands, the ones they were holding, and adjusted them so that her palm was facing out. He pressed his lips gently to the center of it, right over what Seers called the lifeline, and again closed his eyes. Without moving her hand away from his lips, he murmured, "I know."

* * *

 **A/N:**

The next chapter, Chapter 10, will be posted on Thursday. It's a bit... different. (Chapters 20, 30, 40 are too. This fic has 50 total, with possible room for an epilogue.) I will issue only one specific Trigger Warning for this fic but it contains a mild spoiler, so it's written below in italics... skip ahead if you'd prefer not to know. Also, for those who are curious, you'll have to wait until Chapters 11-13 for their friendship to really start blossoming into more, but with romance comes drama, so I hope you'll stick around to see how it plays out. Finally, review responses for Chapters 5-9 will be posted at the end of Chapter 10. Thanks for reading, following, adding to faves, sending PMs, and/or reviewing!

 **-AL**

* * *

 _Trigger Warning & Mild Spoiler: _

_The next chapter references rape, but it is not graphic (and Severus is not a rapist)._

 _The concepts of consent, rape-by-coercion, and abuse/assault will play into future chapters._

 _Despite some future references to rape/assault, all lemony smut-stuff features (sometimes graphic) **consensual** sex. _


	10. Be All My Sins Remembered

**CHAPTER TEN**

 **Be all my sins remembered.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

He tried to stop the bleeding.

He held his handkerchief to his neck and tried to stop the bleeding.

No avail. He could feel the poison seeping into his system.

This wasn't right.

It wasn't supposed to end this way.

Not here. Not yet.

Not like this.

He was supposed to help Potter defeat the Dark Lord.

So much still needed to be done.

The snake.

Dumbledore had mentioned the snake.

He said the time would come when the Dark Lord would no longer be without his snake.

That time had come.

The snake.

That fucking snake.

He was bleeding.

He hadn't expected to make it through the war.

But it wasn't supposed to end this way.

-0-0-0-

She'd been promised "quick and painless."

It wasn't.

Neither quick nor painless.

Had she made the right choice?

Had it truly been a choice?

She could feel the heat emanating from his naked body.

She wondered if he could feel the fury emanating from hers.

He pinned her onto her back, slid his tongue inside her mouth.

His hair fell over her face.

She stared at the ceiling.

He kissed her neck, her shoulder, her breast, and down...

He ran his tongue along the scar on her inner thigh.

She let out an involuntary moan when he tasted her.

Why was he wasting his time?

Her pleasure was hardly necessary here.

She didn't want an orgasm; she wanted a stay of execution.

It was too late for that.

It was too late for both.

He brought her to the brink and over - over - over the edge.

She cursed the betrayal of her body.

This wasn't right.

-0-0-0-

Lily's eyes.

Lily's eyes, staring into his own.

Lily's eyes… but James' features.

A son that should have been his.

"Take it," he said.

The memories flooded forth from his mind.

They were Potter's problem now.

Years of friendship, of childhood innocence, of magic.

The climb before the fall.

"Take it," he said.

He let them all go, every last one.

Every last one the boy needed to see.

Until he was finally free.

"Look at me."

Lily's eyes.

Green.

Familiar.

Unforgettable.

Lily's eyes. Staring into his own.

After all this time?

"Always."

-0-0-0-

She refused to cry.

Wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

She wouldn't struggle.

Wouldn't deny him.

She wouldn't reciprocate.

Wouldn't respond at all.

She closed her eyes so she didn't have to see his face.

He maneuvered her onto her stomach, positioning himself behind.

Maybe he didn't want to see her face either.

He dug his fingers into her flesh.

And entered before she was ready.

Not that she'd ever be ready.

He rocked his hips, his hands on her thighs.

Fuck. She didn't know he'd be big.

It almost hurt.

It almost felt good.

He pulled her into a seated position, her back against his chest.

She gyrated obediently.

Now his lips were but a breath from her ear:

"You like it, don't you?"

-0-0-0-

The first time he saw her, he was nine.

She was lovely.

-0-0-0-

The first time she saw him, she was twelve.

He was arrogant.

-0-0-0-

She'd chosen _him. Him_ of all people.

James Potter.

That was the worst part.

If he couldn't have her, if someone else had to…

But why _him?_

It wasn't fair.

-0-0-0-

It was _her_ suggestion. _Hers._

Narcissa Malfoy.

That was the worst part.

If it had to happen, if it was for the greater good…

But _why_ suggest it?

It wasn't forgivable.

-0-0-0-

The trial.

The Wizengamot.

The coma.

The convalescent home.

Five years.

Five wasted years living a half-life.

Then five more. Just as wasted.

Long, lonely years.

Minerva McGonagall came to visit. She didn't have to.

But Severus appreciated it.

-0-0-0-

The first marriage.

The first divorce.

The first child.

The second.

The debt. The fear. The lies. The pain.

The third child.

The second divorce.

The funeral.

Molly Weasley came to pay her respects. She didn't have to.

But Hermione appreciated it.

-0-0-0-

They raped a woman.

Avery, Mulciber, and Rosier.

His classmates. His contemporaries.

His friends.

He hadn't participated.

But he hadn't stopped them either.

She'd been a gift from the Dark Lord.

A gift on the night all four young men received their Marks.

Bellatrix chose her for them. Picked her out special.

She wanted to watch.

"No," said the Dark Lord. "Let the boys enjoy themselves in private."

Avery enjoyed. Mulciber enjoyed. Rosier enjoyed.

But Severus felt vaguely ill, watching the woman cower and cry.

She reminded him of his mother.

They made her kneel. Took turns thrusting into her mouth.

Holding her by the hair. Cursing her. The Cruciatus. Laughing.

He stood back as if disinterested.

They pinned her down. Parted her thighs. Tore off her clothes.

They took turns on top of her.

Encouraged him to join the fun.

He considered telling his friends he was gay.

(But he didn't want the Dark Lord to gift him a man, either.)

"Go on," said Avery, sensing his trepidation. "It's rude to refuse a gift."

"I can't," he replied. "Not with you lot watching."

They nodded. They sniggered. They understood. They disapparated.

He used "Avada Kedavra" to put her out of her misery.

The Dark Lord would have let Bella kill her anyway.

It was a murder of mercy.

It was also his first.

-0-0-0-

Hermione went with him willingly.

She knew what she was doing.

She wasn't a victim.

It was a choice.

And yet…

And yet...

And yet...

It wasn't.

-0-0-0-

"Don't be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?"

"Lately, only those whom I could not save."

-0-0-0-

"Don't be shocked, Hermione. You're not a little girl anymore. This is the way of the world."

"It's not _my_ way."

-0-0-0-

Mudblood.

The word that left his lips.

It changed his life forever.

-0-0-0-

Mudblood.

The word etched into her arm.

It shall remain forever.

-0-0-0-

"I don't need help from a Mudblood."

Mudblood.

Filthy Mudblood.

"I don't need help from a filthy Mudblood."

It just slipped out.

He apologized.

No forgiveness.

It was over.

-0-0-0-

"Tell me you like it, Mudblood."

Mudblood.

Filthy Mudblood.

"Tell me you like it, filthy Mudblood."

He finished inside her.

She finally cried.

No reprieve.

It was over.

-0-0-0-

He apologized.

She cried.

No forgiveness.

No reprieve.

It was over.

"Be all my sins remembered."

* * *

 **A/N:**

As I warned in Chapter Nine, and/or as you may have noticed, this chapter is a bit… different. It was one of my favorites to write so I hope you don't hate it (but if you do hate it, well, fear not. The next chapter should make you happier… I think). The Hamlet quote for this one is interesting because some people interpret it to mean Hamlet is asking Ophelia's prayers/forgiveness while others think he's warning her to stay away from him, which both work in the context of these flashbacks as they relate to how Severus and Hermione are feeling about their pasts and each other. Also please note that some of the dialogue was taken verbatim from Order of the Phoenix and Deathly Hallows, which I don't own (ob...viously). Next Update will be on either Saturday or Monday. Thanks for reading!

 **–AL**

 **Review Responses, Chapters 5-9:**

 **Cloudshape to ennien** \- Thanks! Hermione will eventually explain to Severus how she ended up with three kids between the ages of 24 and 19 but I will reveal now that they weren't all planned. I hope you'll enjoy watching Hermione help Severus recover... and vice-versa.

 **HarryPGinnyW4Eva -** Thanks for your detailed reviews! I was worried people would be disappointed because the story takes a little while to get to the smuttier stuff, so I'm really glad you like the slow growth from acquaintances to friends (and lovers).

 **Harry Hobbit** \- Don't worry, this is a totally different world than  Wanting Narcissa! Narcissa in particular is completely different (not sure you'll like her in this one, but she exhibits some redeeming qualities... eventually... I think) and though Severus is similar I've made changes to both him and Bellatrix to keep them separate from the characters they are in my other fics. Love your response to the Trigger Warning - lol. I always say I won't give TWs then end up giving one. But that's it, I swear!

 **Cinderspire793** \- I have to be honest, I've never read  Pride & Prejudice (terrible of me, I know!) but I'm glad this reminds you of it bc it's some of my friends' favorite book. Don't worry about committing homicide (lol) I will update every Monday and Thursday and occasional days in-between. But always expect new chapters on Thurs and Mon.

 **RhodaBush** \- Thanks for both the reviews and the shiny object! lol

 **dmeb -** I can't reveal who at Malfoy Manor is having guilt-related insomnia quite yet, but I will say the ex is an OC named Reginald Park whom Hermione met while working at the Ministry just after her marriage to Ron fell apart. More on that later!

 **Myracle-Wryter** -lol Thanks! It might end up being 52 if I do a short sort of second epilogue like I did with my last fic (Wanting Narcissa) but it's plotted out with only fifty plus epilogue. I am glad this gave you a reason to look forward to Thursday but I hope didn't bring you down since it's a bit darker than previous chapters! :)

 **bournespeed, HallowRain8587, Sevslave1, The Blind Apprentice, Guest(s), DominaMaddi, Professor Severus Tobias Snape, lunarose87, Elphaba8387, purplehedgehog13, catsgotmytongue, elizabethrose1974, Onyx Obsidian, Marzipan4, gerrylynnr, browni'dbrunette, PopularCats, fifiotoole, 09sasha, Btterflykiss69, Thorn, IDeliverDismalEnding, rivruskende, arizonadaydreamer, caitlin dunne12, lilikaco, jmullinax, Gg10679** \- Thanks so much for all of your reviews! I absolutely love reading them. If you have any specific Qs feel free to ask and as long as they don't require spoilers, I'll answer! Thx again.


	11. As This World Goes

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

 **To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten-thousand.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

He wanted her. Physically. Romantically. He couldn't deny it. When he kissed her palm a week ago, the sensation of having pressed his lips to her skin sent sparks up his arm and into his shoulder and down through his chest, straight to his groin, and immediately he forced himself to think of all the least sexy things his mind's eye could conjure, sort of a Riddikulus for the (horny) Boggart in his brain. Who could blame him? She was attractive, bright, and funny, relatively easygoing but no pushover, plus she was the only woman to have paid him any mind for non-medical or professional purposes in over eleven years. He wasn't becoming attached to her merely out of desperation, though. They had a genuine connection. He felt it, even when they argued, and he was certain she did too.

She, on the other hand, was far more practical, and therefore was thinking very seriously about trying to appear more standoffish. While she'd liked the way it felt when he kissed her palm, she was determined not to start thinking of him in that way, in any way other than as a professional connection and – at most – a new friend. She'd fallen in love before. Twice, in fact. And both times she'd fallen hard and fast and without reservation only to regret it later. It was for this reason she forced herself to stop thinking of him in sexual terms during her nightly baths after the kids went to sleep. While the physical and emotional release had its benefits she was having difficulty picturing anyone other than him in her fantasy scenarios and therefore felt continuing to indulge in such self-gratification could be dangerous. Her attraction to him wasn't merely lust-based, though. They had a genuine connection. She felt it, especially when they argued, and she was certain he did too.

It was Friday and they were in the garden. He was poised on the bench, watching her, making conversation, while she tackled the most stubborn weeds, deeply rooted, and willing to fight back.

"Ouch!"

A long tendril of a half-dead Dragon's Nightshade plant reached out and smacked her on the arm, retaliation for having broken off half its limbs.

"You silly thing, the dead parts are killing you!" she snapped, jabbing her shears in its direction. Severus chuckled.

"It cannot hear you, Hermione. It's a plant."

"It certainly seems to have a mind of its own, why shouldn't it also have ears?" she said grumpily, trying again to pull out a chunk of it from the earth. It had rained all week so the ground was muddy on the surface, but these roots went far down into the hard, dry earth below. She gave a great tug and tumbled backwards as the ground finally released the plant, spraying her with dirt and mud. The long tendril reached out and smacked her again.

"Damn it!"

Severus snickered.

"You think it's so funny, you get down here and pull!"

"Why?" he asked innocently, one eyebrow raised. "I hired you to do it so I won't have to."

"Very well," she replied, just as innocently. "If you don't think you're _up_ to it…"

"I am not digging in the dirt because I do not wish to, not because I am unable."

"Sure, sure," she said offhandedly, returning to her knees and attacking the aggressive plant once more. "You could. You're choosing not to. That's all."

"I could if I wanted to," he insisted.

"Of course you could," she concurred in a placating tone. "You just don't want to."

"I could!"

"I know!" She smiled, knowing she was getting to him. "You told me. I believe you. I don't need to see it for myself. I'll take you on your word, Professor."

Even though he was aware that she was manipulating him, he rose, removed his wizard's robe, draped it over the back of the bench, and moved to stand beside her, glaring down at her kneeling form.

"I would help," he said, "But these trousers are expensive and I do not wish for them to get ruined by the mud."

"Right," she said. "Because there is absolutely no way, magical or Muggle, to get mud out of one's clothing. That's why I garden in the nude."

His cheeks reddened, though even he wasn't sure whether it was embarrassment over having been needled by her or embarrassment over the fact that he was now picturing her gardening nude…

He squatted down beside her and reached toward the Dragon's Nightshade.

"I could do this in my sleep," he insisted, giving it a tug. Nothing happened.

"You won't get any leverage from that position, Severus. You should kneel."

"I'm not kneeling in the dirt. I'll get dirty."

"What a travesty that would be. Getting dirty with me."

His eyebrows rose so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. Was the innuendo there intentional? She had spoken matter-of-factly and was staring intently at the plant, so perhaps she hadn't set out to make his pulse race…

He gave the plant another tug.

It smacked him on the arm.

"Ouch!"

"Yes," said Hermione, leaning forward to grab hold of the base. "It hurts." She handed him the shears. "You cut the dead bits off the main plant. I think it can be saved. I'll pull these roots."

They worked in silence, side by side, for several minutes, during which Severus did his best to ignore the pain this position caused his back and legs.

"Hermione? I saw you that day at the Daily Prophet office."

"Huh?" She wasn't quite listening, having discovered another stubborn root.

He snipped at the plant, not looking at her. "The day you placed your ad. I was there. I heard… I heard what they said to you. That one prat said the wording made you sound like a prostitute. The other offered to accept payment in… in non-monetary form. I knew what they thought."

He wasn't sure why he was confessing this. It wasn't as if she needed to know. But now that he'd spoken the truth there was no taking it back.

"You… knew?"

"I did."

"Why…" She recalled the way he'd teased her, tormenting her, during their first discussion, when she'd arrived prepared to… perform… and he'd offered her legit and steady work instead, and she felt anger bubbling up inside her. She fought to keep it at bay, to hear him out. "Why haven't you mentioned this before now?"

"Shame. I was there to place my own ad."

"Seeking?" Her voice was clipped. He hoped he hadn't made a mistake by telling her.

"Conversation, mostly."

"Con… conversation?"

"It had been… awhile."

"Awhile since you last had… conversation?"

"Yes."

"You knew, then, that I was desperate. That I hadn't meant to put my ad in the Help Wanted section. That I would've been willing to…"

"Yes."

"You could have… taken advantage… of my desperation."

"I had no desire to take advantage of your desperation," he said, focusing his gaze on the plant in front of him, hoping she wouldn't realize the notion of doing just that had actually crossed his mind several times, kept at bay both by his loathing of men who mistreat women and by his current physical challenges.

"I didn't know it was you who replied to my letter, but you knew…"

"I presumed you would decline if you'd known ahead of time it was me. I was afraid you'd think a lecherous old professor was seeking your presence for nefarious reasons."

"You went there to place your own ad, but decided to answer mine instead?"

"More or less."

She raised both eyebrows, unable to do just one. "So you hired me for conversation."

"Yes."

"Then you spent half of our initial meeting telling me I would not be permitted to talk."

"I…" His dark eyes shifted guiltily. "I had an image to maintain."

"You realize this makes absolutely no sense. You're saying you ordered me not to talk, but you hired me for conversation?"

"Yes. Among other things."

"Other things?" She stopped pulling and looked at him. He continued to stare at the plant.

"Things like this. Cooking, cleaning, potions assistance, gardening. I did not lie to you about needing the help."

"I see." She grabbed another root and yanked. He stole a glance in her direction. Her expression was entirely unreadable. After a lengthy, uncomfortable pause, she spoke again. "I was terrified, when I knocked on your door. I had no idea who you were, what kind of person you'd be. Whether you'd… whether you'd be someone I could see myself… with. Or whether you'd… whether you would hurt me."

"You were terrified I might hurt you?" His heart constricted. He'd meant to intimidate her a mite, to teach her a lesson for having placed such a stupid advertisement, but not to _terrify_ her.

"How was I to know what you'd be seeking, what you'd be into? Some wizards get off on causing pain…" The face of Bellatrix Lestrange flashed across her mind. "Witches, too. Tell me honestly, Severus. Have you ever… have you ever taken a woman… against her will?"

He paled, but thankfully was able to answer honestly without shame. "No, never."

"But other Death Eaters have?"

Now he was the one mentally picturing Bellatrix. "Yes, others have."

"Before I knew you were you, I was terrified you'd be… one of them."

"I wouldn't hurt you."

"I know. A part of me was relieved to realize you were the one who'd answered my ad. Relieved, but also humiliated." Hot tears stung at the corners of her eyes as she silently cursed herself. She felt like she spent far too much of their talking time in tears, though he didn't seem to mind. "I didn't want you to be someone I know."

"I didn't want…"

"You didn't want…?"

"I didn't want anyone else to answer your ad. When I took it–"

"Wait," she interjected. "You _took_ it?"

Now, he decided, was the time for total honesty. "When you left the Daily Prophet office, I went up to the counter and bought your ad so it wouldn't run. I wasn't going to respond, not at first, I simply didn't want anyone else to. The way I viewed it, only a pervert would reply to such an offer. You deserved… better."

"But you replied to me eventually."

"I assumed if you were willing to offer yourself up in such a way, which, if I may be so bold, seemed entirely contrary to what I knew of your character and therefore led me to believe you'd fallen on exceptionally hard times, you must be as desperate as you later admitted to being. If I did not respond, no one would, and desperation would likely push you to place it again – or worse. Besides, as I said, I did need the help. I _do_ need the help. I figured, why not write you? Why not come up with an arrangement that would be mutually beneficial?"

"Oh," she said quietly as she brushed away a tendril of the plant, which was creeping ominously up her arm. "I wish you'd been forthcoming with me."

He braced himself, expecting fury to erupt from her at any moment, but to his surprise, none came.

"Are you sorry I saved your life?" she asked.

"Not anymore."

"Nor am I, Professor. And I'm not sorry you saved mine."

"We're even, then, Ms. Granger."

She smiled. He smiled. They both returned focus to the plant, glad the air was cleared. They worked quietly for a couple of minutes. Severus' thigh muscles were burning from squatting like this, but there was no way in hell he was going to kneel as she was.

She was struggling to tear up a particularly stubborn cluster of weeds.

"Allow me."

He tugged at it, once, twice, three times, and finally the plant uprooted, but when it gave way he lost his balance, falling onto his back into the mud with a squish.

She giggled.

He could feel the cold earth seeping through his cotton shirt and trousers, caking to his clothes and wetting the skin underneath. She leaned over him, her hair falling forward and tickling his chin.

"You poor dear." There was not an ounce of sympathy in her voice. On the contrary, she was hardly stifling her laughter. "Do you need a hand?"

"Your applause won't do me any good," he quipped. He wanted to get up but that slight fall, coupled with the prolonged balancing act, had overexerted him. He reached a hand up, placing it carefully on her waist, staring up at her. With his other hand, he felt the ground, grabbing up a handful of mud.

"Ms. Granger?"

"Yes?" She was surprised by his return to the formal use of his name.

"Help me up."

She did. When they were both in seated positions, side by side, he said, "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"You have a bit of mud on your shirt, too."

"Do I?" She looked down, puzzled. "Where?"

He quickly brought him the fist holding gloppy mud and flattened his palm against her stomach, then circled his hand once around her abdomen, smushing mud across the front of her tee-shirt.

"There."

She shrieked, grabbed his wrist to stop him, and scrambled back a bit.

"You horse's ass!"

He laughed, but not for long, as she grabbed her own handful and flung it at him, hitting him in the chest and splattering across his neck.

This kicked off quite the battle and soon enough, both were breathless and filthy.

They reclined on their elbows, side by side. Hermione attempted to wipe the mud from her face but since her arm was just as dirty she only succeeded in spreading it across her forehead.

Severus, on the other hand, was certain his new trousers were ruined, though he tried to dust them off anyway.

"You have it all over your face," he said, turning toward her.

"So do you."

"I do?"

(He didn't.)

"Yes," she said, bringing a muddy hand up to his cheek. She ran her thumb from under his eye to his chin, leaving a streak of earth across his skin. "Just there."

He laughed. She laughed.

Her hand did not move away from his cheek.

He leaned forward.

She leaned forward.

He watched her carefully.

Her eyelids fluttered closed.

His hand moved to cup her cheek.

Hers slipped around to the back of his neck.

He was going to kiss her.

She was going to let him.

Their lips were but a whisper apart.

Suddenly, a screech tore through the quiet of the afternoon, jolting them, followed by a forced separation as a large tawny owl flew straight into their path, landing between them.

It stuck out its leg and hooted impatiently.

There was a rolled up bit of parchment attached.

"A letter?" asked Hermione, even though it was obvious that's what the owl had delivered.

Severus took it, shooed the bird away with annoyance (the owl was annoyed too; he'd wanted a treat for his troubles) and unfurled the parchment.

"Who's it from?" asked Hermione. "Minerva?"

Minerva had been writing him with increasing frequency lately, checking in, but he'd yet to respond.

"No," he said, careful not to let the mud from his hands obscure the writing. "It's from Narcissa."

The warmth in her face – and the jovial air around them – dissipated immediately.

"You should read it, then," Hermione said coolly. She stood, stretched, and walked toward the back door. "It's nearly five. I'm going to get cleaned up and change."

He wanted to call after her, to call her back, to tell her he didn't care what Narcissa had written, to apologize even though he'd done nothing wrong, to beg of her the reason any mention of the Malfoys made her this way…

But all he said was, "Alright."

Alright.

-0-0-0-

What business did Narcissa have, writing to him?

This question ate away at Hermione all weekend.

She knew that her former professor and the mother of her Slytherin classmate were friendly, he'd told her as much, and it had come out during the Wizengamot trials that Severus had made the Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa to protect Draco, but that owl, the owl she now knew belonged to the Malfoys, had paid Severus at least four visits in under two weeks… why? Each time it turned up, Severus would simply remove the letter and pocket it, then send the bird away with a treat but no response.

But this time, in the garden…

She was certain he'd been about to kiss her.

Her heart was fluttering, her stomach lurched…

She was ready…

And then that damn bird.

Narcissa's bird.

Hermione hated her. Hated her as much as she hated her sister, Bellatrix. Hated them both as much as she did Fenrir Greyback and Antonin Dolohov and the Lestrange brothers and Lucius Malfoy and Lord Voldemort himself. Hated the Black sisters more, perhaps, because they're women, and even though she knew it was probably unreasonable, she couldn't help holding women to higher standards. Especially if those women were also mothers, as both Narcissa and Bellatrix were. How could a mother have so little regard for other mothers? For other mothers' children?

Hermione had been one of three witches battling Bellatrix Lestrange in the Great Hall of Hogwarts after Neville declared the war would continue even without Harry. Bellatrix had been cocky, grinning, enjoying what was barely a challenge, when she announced she'd be sending Ginny to see her dead brother, Fred. That's when Molly Weasley stepped in. Voldemort's right-hand's undoing was a combination of her own arrogance and completely underestimating another mother's love.

The last time Hermione saw Bellatrix, she was falling backward, hit by a nonverbal, unfamiliar curse, the light flickering out of her mad dark eyes.

Dead.

The last time Hermione saw Narcissa Malfoy was about a year and a half ago, while shopping in Diagon Alley. Hermione was recently divorced and heavily pregnant at the time. She had Henry sitting in his pram with Helena walking along beside, cradling her beloved ragdoll. Narcissa was standing beside a haughty looking . well-dressed, dark-haired girl with heavy-lidded eyes. This must be Delphini Black, the nine-year-old daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange, father unknown (though there were rumors…).

"Aunt Cissy!" The girl pointed at an exceptionally ornate and overpriced child-sized witch's dress robe in a store window. "I want that one, that exact one, but in white with black trim and red lace and I want the diamond chips along the neckline to be real. Those look like _knockoffs_." She said the word 'knockoffs' with the same scorn her mother had always used when uttering the word 'Mudblood.'

"That's pretty, isn't it Mummy?" asked then three-year-old Helena, staring wide-eyed at the same dress robe. It was indeed pretty. Plush dark blue fabric with snow white trim, diamond chips shining at the neck and cuffs, with a line of white lace along the bottom.

The price was painted on a placard hovering beside it: Three-hundred-fifty galleons.

Three-hundred-fifty galleons. For an outfit a little girl would likely grow out of within six months.

Three-hundred-fifty galleons. For a trim of diamond chips that were probably knockoffs.

Three-hundred-fifty galleons. Three times the rent for Hermione's new little flat.

"If you want it, we'll get it," said Narcissa in a bored sounding voice. "You'll need something new when the Minister comes to dinner next week anyway. Let's see if they can have it made the way you want within the next five days."

Delphini did not say smile or thank you. She tossed back her thick, black hair, sent a reproachful look in the direction of Hermione and the children, and strode inside the store, as haughty as her mother had been.

Narcissa glanced over at the Grangers too, her cobalt blue eyes sweeping first over the two children dressed like Muggles without money, then over Hermione's expanded midsection. Hermione stared back, just as judgmentally, trying not to feel like a peasant in her pink tunic and maternity leggings. Narcissa, of course, looked as put-together as ever. Unlike Hermione's bushy brown mess, Narcissa's graying-blonde hair was pulled back into a long, tight French braid, showing off diamond earrings that were certainly not knockoffs. She was wearing a long, silk dress that was bronze in color, with fur lining along the collar and cuffs, even though it was dreadfully hot outside. 'She must use a cooling charm to be able to stand wearing that,' Hermione thought. She narrowed her eyes into a defiant glare. Narcissa did not break eye-contact.

But her expression was unreadable.

"Aun-tie!" called Delphini impatiently from inside the store.

After an almost-unnoticeable nod of recognition, Narcissa turned away, and followed the girl inside.

'She already has everything,' Hermione thought bitterly as she stirred the pancake batter Saturday morning, lost in this memory. 'And now she wants Severus?'

But no. No, that was ridiculous. There was absolutely _nothing_ to suggest Narcissa Malfoy wanted anything more from Severus Snape than his help in boosting the reputation of her son, which was silly anyway because as far as Hermione could tell Draco was on a steady climb since the end of the trials that began ten years ago. He'd given away a considerable amount of the Malfoy wealth to various charities to help with things like rebuilding Hogwarts, supporting war orphans, and opening a new, improved long-term care facility branched off of St. Mungo's (this is where Severus had stayed after being brought out of his coma).

Apparently charitable contributions weren't enough for his mother. Draco needed power, popularity, influence. He needed the best.

Of everything.

Just like his parents.

At the expense of anyone and everyone else.

Hermione glared disdainfully down at the pancake she'd just poured. It wasn't that she was jealous of Narcissa, not really. It's just that jealousy was a much easier emotion to process and navigate. It allowed her to feel her negative feelings without feeling… too much. Without facing the feelings she couldn't quite handle.

She took a deep breath, poured several much smaller pancakes ("Sickle Cakes," the kids called them, on account of their size) and pressed a chocolate chip into the center of each one.

She had no reason to believe Narcissa _wanted_ Severus, but even if that were the case, it wasn't as if Hermione had any claim to him.

Who was he, anyway?

-The man who taught her Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts as a kid.

-The man who'd risked his life to help bring the Dark Lord down from the inside.

-The man who accidentally severed George Weasley's ear when trying to save Lupin's life.

-The man whose own life she saved.

-The man who hid himself away from public view.

-The man who didn't want to be called a hero.

-The man who hired her to help him during his recovery.

-The man who sent her home with baked goods.

-The man who brought her children medicine when they were sick.

-The man who debated the merits of Muggle American theatre with her after dinner one night.

-The man who almost kissed her in the garden.

 _The man who almost kissed her in the garden?!_

She barely knew him.

They were barely friends.

Nothing more. Nothing at all.

She had no right to be this upset.

-0-0-0-

After Hermione left, Severus spent the night - and then the rest of the weekend - climbing stairs, doing stretches, lifting transfigured weights, and cursing that damn bird Narcissa sent.

 _Severus,_

 _I know you're receiving my letters._

 _Answer me, damn it._

 _I deserve better than this._

 _As do you._

 _And we'll all have to face the truth eventually._

 _-Narcissa_

Just as he had with every piece of parchment from Minerva, who also couldn't seem to stop writing to him despite being ignored, Severus tossed the letter in his fireplace and watched it burn.

Face the truth eventually?

No. No, thank you.

If Narcissa knew the truth, she'd wish she hadn't sought it.

She sent another letter on Sunday.

This time, he didn't bother reading it.

Into the fire it went.

* * *

 **A/N:**

I was feeling a little guilty because the last chapter was so short and the next update seems so far away, so here's Chapter Eleven a bit early. Look for Chapter Twelve on Monday! Hope you enjoyed - if you did (or even if you didn't) please let me know! Have a lovely weekend. Thanks for reading, reviewing, adding to favorites, and following!

 **-AL**


	12. Smile, and be a Villain

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

 **One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

"I want to go out."

"Excuse me?"

It was Monday afternoon, the second week of August, eight weeks into Hermione's employment and less than three weeks before Eloise would be returning to Hogwarts. They were in his kitchen, putting away the groceries Hermione picked up over the weekend. They hadn't spoken about the near-kiss in the garden the previous Friday, choosing to pretend it never happened. Instead they discussed literature, namely the book Severus started over the weekend, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. Severus hadn't finished it yet, but was determined to, as Hermione had mentioned it was one of her favorites.

"I want to go out," Severus repeated as he put the vinegar away in the cupboard.

"You want to go out?" repeated Hermione. She placed the eggs on the counter, the last item in the last bag, and turned to him. "You never want to go out."

"There are a number of potions ingredients I need. Several can only be procured at the apothecary on Knockturn Alley." He shrugged almost apologetically. "Will you… accompany me?"

"Of course," she said. "You're the boss. If you want to go out, we'll go out."

He scowled when she called him the boss, but as it hadn't been said with any animosity, he tried to suppress his annoyance.

They took the Floo network to the Leaky Cauldron and crossed from there into Diagon Alley. Hermione carried an empty canvas bag over her shoulder while Severus leaned on his cane. He hated having to bring it, but not having it at the Ministry a couple of weeks prior had been a mistake. They hurried toward the direction of Knockturn Alley, both secretly hoping not to run into anyone they know.

Which they did. Immediately.

"Hermione! Hello."

It was Luna Lovegood. The bright but flighty blonde was just exiting Ollivander's, arm in arm with a tall, thin man Hermione did not recognize.

"Oh… Hi, Luna." Hermione waved back.

"Mr. Scamander," greeted Severus, nodding toward the younger man, who looked about thirty-five, with untidy brown hair and freckles. "It's been a long time."

"Professor Snape!" said the young man, hazel eyes wide with surprise. "It's wonderful to see you looking so… uh…"

"Alive," Luna finished for him. "We were just dropping in on Mr. Ollivander. He's doing well. I can't believe it's been over ten years since we were imprisoned together in the Malfoy's basement dungeon and he looks exactly the same." She said this as if being imprisoned in a dungeon was as normal as vacationing in Greece or attending a Yule Ball. "Hermione Granger, this is Rolf Scamander. Rolf, Hermione. As of yesterday, we're engaged. "

"Oh!" Hermione reached out a hand to Rolf. "Nice to meet you! Congratulations."

"Thank you," said Rolf. "It's nice to meet you, too. I've heard so much about you."

"Are you related to Newt Scamander?" asked Hermione. "The author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them?"

"Indeed I am!" Rolf answered cheerily. "He's my grandfather."

"So, Hermione," said Luna airily. "Are you dating Professor Snape?"

"I… we… no!" Hermione was clearly caught off-guard. She glanced at Severus, who appeared disinterested, almost as if he hadn't heard. "I work for him, as an… assistant."

"That's nice," said Luna. "We missed you at Neville and Hannah's wedding."

"Yes," said Hermione, wanting nothing more than to get out of this conversation, even though she'd actually missed Luna very much over the last couple of years. "Sorry I couldn't make it."

"You're twice divorced," Luna pointed out unnecessarily. "Ron is married to Lavender now. He's much happier. I hope you're much happier too. You were never quite suited for each other, were you?"

"I... no. I suppose we weren't."

"Neville and I were not well-suited for each other either. We're better as friends. With no offense to Ronald intended, I always thought you deserved someone with a bit more... depth." She glanced up at Severus. "Perhaps an intellectual. Don't you agree?"

"I..." Hermione glanced at Severus but quickly averted her eyes, embarrassed to find him looking back.

"Ronald says he hasn't spoken to you in years but his mother went to your second husband's funeral. That was nice of her. Are you and she still close?"

"We..." _Never really were,_ Hermione was tempted to finish, but it was true that Molly had attended the services. A welcome surprise. "Molly and I... um..."

"I am sorry to interrupt your happy reunion," said Severus, sensing her need to escape. "But Ms. Granger and I have a limited time in which to purchase the necessary ingredients for me to finish the potion I've been brewing for the past two days…"

"I'm so sorry!" Hermione exclaimed, though she wasn't. "Luna, send me an owl and we'll get together soon, okay? To catch up."

"I would like that. I'm glad you are well, Professor Snape. I'd heard your brain became infested with Wrackspurts during your early years of convalescence, which was thought to be the reason you've been so infrequently seen since."

He half-smiled. Luna was... interesting.

"Rest assured, Miss Lovegood, I am Wrackspurt-free... as far as I'm aware."

-0-0-0-

"Isn't that Severus Snape, the traitor?" Delphini Black pointed down the street toward a tall, too-thin man in a long, black wizard's robe, with pale skin and oily black hair that nearly reached his shoulders. "I've never seen him in person."

"You have," said her aunt Narcissa. "He used to visit. You were a baby; you don't remember."

"He's not my father, is he?"

The girl had been asking a lot of questions about the identity of her father as of late.

"I really can't say," replied Narcissa honestly. "You know if I knew who your father was, I would tell you."

Delphini nodded, a sneer on her pinched face. She'd been hoping for a definite "No." She didn't want a traitor for a father. Not considering who her beloved mother was.

"That's the Granger woman with him, isn't it, Auntie?"

"It is…" said Narcissa slowly, appraising the pair with suspicion. "I wonder what they're doing here… together."

Delphini shrugged, losing interest. "I want an owl."

"Excuse me?"

"An owl to take to Hogwarts. I don't want to be the only first year without an animal. Or worse, to show up on the first day with an embarrassing animal, like a cat or a toad. Unpopular, ugly girls get cats, and only weirdos want toads. So I _have to have_ an owl. Specifically, I want an Indian Forest Owlet. They're on the verge of extinction. Very rare, dreadfully expensive. No one else will have one. Does Eeylope's Owl Emporium have them or will we have to order from India directly?"

"I… what?" Narcissa dragged her gaze way from Severus and Hermione, but not before noticing the way her old friend gently touched the brunette's lower back before they continued on in the opposite direction. So _this_ is why he'd been ignoring her. He'd gotten himself a Mudblood girlfriend.

Delphini sighed. She hated it when her aunt failed to pay her full attention. She snapped her fingers to emphasize each syllable. "I. Want. An. Ow-el. To. Take. To. Hog-warts."

Narcissa narrowed her cobalt blue eyes and grabbed the girl's wrist, bending it back painfully. "Delphini Black, you snap your fingers at me again and you won't live to see your Sorting."

-0-0-0-

It didn't take long for Severus and Hermione to find all of the items on the list at Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary. They intended to head home directly after, but Severus suggested picking up more Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent and Anti-Nargle Spray for the garden first, since his stores were running low.

"I still cannot accept that nargles are real," said Hermione disdainfully. "I know it's been proven beyond a shadow of a doubt, but I always thought Luna was a bit of an idiot when it came to things like that back in school."

"Ahead of her time, I suppose," said Severus. "She and Scamander are a good match."

"He was your student?"

"Yes. Class of 1992. Talented potions maker and Herbologist, in addition to being naturally gifted when it came to magical creatures. You don't remember him?"

"I didn't know many seventh years as a second year."

Severus made a face.

"What?"

"I forget, sometimes, how young you are."

"Not so young," she said, stepping closer to him. The alleyway was dark. Hardly anyone was around. She gently placed her hand on his upper arm. "I'm nearly thirty."

"You're not yet twenty-nine," he said, as the hand not holding his cane went to her hip. "I have nineteen years on you."

"That's not so many."

"I'm too old for you."

"I'm mature for my age."

He leaned his cane against the wall before placing his index finger under her chin, making eye contact, the way she'd done to him just recently. "You're practically still a girl, Ms. Granger."

"I assure you, sir, I am _very much_ a woman." She tilted her head up, maintaining that eye contact, sliding her hand from his bicep to his shoulder.

He leaned down…

She licked her lower lip in anticipation...

His eyes closed...

Her eyes closed...

His nose brushed against hers...

Her lips just barely touched his...

The head of a cane met her shoulder blades and ran slowly down, down, to the lowest part of her back...

It wasn't Severus' cane.

Hermione jumped and whipped around, only to find herself face to face with one of her least favorite people in the entire wizarding world.

"Lucius Malfoy!"

"Hermione Granger Park." He said her name as if it were explicit. "It's been too long."

"Not long enough."

"Not long enough?" Lucius chuckled. "Still so fiery." He nodded in the direction of his former friend. "Severus."

"Lucius," said Severus, coldly returning the nod.

Lucius turned his attention back to Hermione, regarding her like a condemned man's last meal. "Faring well, Mrs. Park? How is your husband? I thought I might see him today…" He tapped the door of the nearest establishment with the snake's head of his walking stick. Hermione glanced up at the sign above. Baldwick's Betting Parlor. Her face flushed, which made Lucius' lip curl into a smile. "Where _has_ Mr. Park been?"

"He's dead, Mr. Malfoy."

"How _unfortunate._ My condolences."

"Yes. Well, if you'd excuse us…" She attempted to push past him, hoping Severus would follow, preferably without asking questions, but Lucius stopped her by grabbing hold of her arm.

"Not so fast, Mrs. Park."

"Granger."

"Miss Granger."

"Ms."

Lucius smirked. "Hermione. Tell me…" He glanced at Severus, who was watching them carefully. "Miss Granger, are you still in the business of allowing use of your body in exchange for relief of your financial obligations?"

She went from ghost white to tomato red. "Still? No. I never was, Mr. Malfoy."

His smirk grew. He ran the snake's head along her cheek. "Weren't you?"

Severus, despite not knowing what was transpiring, grabbed Malfoy's walking stick and thrust it downward. He glared at Lucius.

"I don't believe she gave you permission to touch her."

Lucius laughed.

"And who are you, Severus? Her keeper? Fancy seeing either of you here. This isn't exactly an appropriate stomping ground for the beauty and brains of the so-called Golden Trio, nor is it the sort of place I'd expect to find the war hero who spent over a decade in direct, albeit covert, defiance of the Dark Lord. Isn't Knockturn Alley a bit _beneath_ you both?"

"Professor Snape is my employer. We are running an errand."

"Why did you quit your job at the Ministry, Miss Granger?

"None of your damn business."

"Hm," he said. His gray eyes scanned her figure lecherously, which made Severus' blood boil, though he knew it wasn't his place to step in, especially as she not the type to seek a man to save her. "A secret, then? How... scandalous."

"If I felt it was for you to know, Mr. Malfoy, I'd have shared my reason with you. But as I've not shared it, clearly it's not for you to know."

"In any event, _Miss Granger_ …" (She wanted to punch him every time he said her damn name.) "I am so very glad you've found another source of…" He looked over Severus again. "Income. But if you needed galleons, you could have come to me. I would have been happy to offer you a position."

"I doubt I would have wanted it, Mr. Malfoy."

"Your choice of positions, even. Multiple positions per shift."

Hermione went even redder. When Severus teased her like this, even that first day, the innuendo hadn't bothered her as it did coming from this despicable pureblood supremacist. She clenched her fist around her wand as he continued.

"On your back, on your stomach, on your knees… which _position_ would you prefer?"

"We're leaving," said Severus, grabbing his own cane, unable to listen to this for another moment. Hermione attempted to step away, but Lucius tightened his grip on her arm. Severus withdrew his wand from inside the pocket of his robe, holding it down by his side, but ready to bring it up if necessary.

"Let us by, Mr. Malfoy," said Hermione, glaring at him with unadulterated hatred in her eyes. He dug his fingers deeper into her flesh.

"Why so frigid, Mudblood?"

That was it. Hermione wrenched her arm away and brought her fist back to punch him as she once had his son, but Severus was faster. He shoved his wand under the chin of his former friend.

"Apologize, Lucius. You are not to speak to her this way."

"Are you going to curse me, Severus? Your old friend? For what purpose? To protect the honor of your... _employee?"_

"I might," sneered Severus.

"No." She wrapped her fingers around Severus' wrist, bringing his hand down, while mentally reminding herself that she was a nonviolent person. "I can handle this myself. Mr. Malfoy, contrary to what you may believe, I am no prostitute, and your insinuation is as unwelcome as your blood-status slur."

"Oh?" he said, feigning innocence. "Excuse me. I do apologize if I seemed to indicate that I believe you to be a prostitute. Not my intention. Please, go on."

He stepped aside, letting them pass. They were nearly to the end of the alleyway when he called out, "Not a prostitute, not technically… but most certainly a _whore."_

He promptly disapparated, thus Severus' stunner hit the brick wall opposite them, at the approximate height of Lucius Malfoy's heart.

-0-0-0-

Once back at the house on Spinner's End, Severus and Hermione headed to the basement to put away the potions ingredients. They hadn't gotten the Slug Repellent or Anti-Nargle Spray but everything else on the list had been checked off.

Hermione took the bag and went straight into the storage room while Severus was still slowly coming down the stairs. He entered behind her. She refused to look at him.

"Why did Lucius Malfoy speak to you in that way? Did he… Did he answer your ad?" asked Severus, wondering whether it had run after all.

"No."

"Then why…"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I'm sorry he was nasty to you."

"I don't need your pity." She climbed halfway up the ladder to place three small vials on a high shelf. Once they were in place, she stepped down, caught her foot, and nearly fell. He steadied her, one arm around her waist from behind, and eased her down. Once she was standing on the floor he made to pull away, but she put her hand over his, the one that was on her abdomen, and held him in place. He froze. She leaned against him, resting her back against his chest, which likely would have hurt had he not taken a heavy dose of pain potion before they left.

"No one has held me like this in a long time," she confessed, her voice small.

"I haven't held anyone like this in a long time," he said. He wrapped his other arm around her, placing his right hand over her left, which was over his left over her abdomen. He rested his face beside her head, breathing in the sweet, coconut scent of her bushy brown hair. Both closed their eyes.

"He talked to me like that at the Ministry," she said quietly. "He would drop into my office and close the door and lean over my desk and make suggestions that… that sickened me... or we'd run into each other in the elevator and he'd 'accidentally' brush against my arse, or he'd run the head of that damn cane down my back in the hall... and… and even the way he'd look at me made me uncomfortable. I couldn't continue working there. I couldn't stand the… the constant reminder… the daily harassment…"

"That's why you left the Ministry? Because Lucius Malfoy was hitting on you?"

"It goes deeper than that. I…" She excised herself from his arms, heading back into the lab, leaving the rest of the potions in the bag on the floor. "Why are you prying into my personal life? I said I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, I _want_ to talk about it."

"Talk to yourself, then," she snapped. She picked up a rag and began wiping down the long metal table that spanned the length of the room, even though it was not dirty. "Or better yet, send a letter to your darling Narcissa."

"She is not my darling Narcissa," he said.

"She writes you an awful lot for someone you claim you're barely friendly with."

"You're deflecting, Hermione."

"Are you sleeping with her?"

"Are you serious?"

"Well? Why's she writing you?"

"I'm not sleeping with her."

"Have you ever?"

"Have you ever slept with Malfoy?"

"We're not talking about me! We're talking about you! And Narcissa!"

"No, we're not!" He stalked toward her and grabbed her hand, forcing her to stop wiping the table between them. "Look at me."

"Why should I?" She stared down at the rag in her hand instead. "I can't look at you, knowing you're sleeping with Narcissa Malfoy."

"I am not sleeping with – for fuck's sake, Hermione, I haven't slept with – I've been in recovery for over a decade! I can barely stand for anything to touch my skin, _anything!_ \- unless I've made myself numb with pain potion first. And you think I've spent this time willingly enduring excruciating pain to shag _Narcissa?_ Even though I've clearly spent the last two months trying to appeal to _you?"_

"You're trying to appeal to me?" She was on the verge of tears. She withdrew her hand from his. "What does that even mean?"

"What do you think it means?"

"I think it means you're cheating on Narcissa!" Hermione's voice rose in pitch, bordering on hysteria. She knew she was being irrational - and, yes, deflecting - but she couldn't help herself. She couldn't tell him what happened, why she left the Ministry... She couldn't tell anyone. She couldn't let him see her as the whore Lucius Malfoy claimed she was. "Is that what it means, Severus?"

"Merlin's beard, Hermione! It means I'm bloody attracted to you!" he shouted. "I'm not asking you questions because I'm trying to pry into your life; I'm asking because it's clear that you're hurting and I care about you!"

"Well that's great!" Hermione shouted back. "That's just great because I've grown to care about you too!"

"Then why are we shouting at each other?"

"I have no fucking idea!"

"Let's stop it, then!" He slammed his hand down on the table, which hurt despite the pain potion.

"Fine!" she shouted.

"Fine!" he shouted.

"Fine!" she shouted again, as the angry tears burning at the corners of her eyes began to trickle down her cheeks. "And while we're at it, if you fancy me so damn much, why don't you kiss me?"

"I'd be happy to!" he shouted back.

"Good!"

"Great!"

"Yes, great!" She breathed in jaggedly and wiped away her tears with her palms and stared back at him, expectantly.

He stared back at her, struggling to catch his breath. "Wait. Are you serious?"

"I… I'm serious." They were still separated by the table. She climbed up on it, sat on the edge, dried her cheeks with her sleeves, and tried to smile. "Severus? I'm serious. I want you to kiss me. I think I... I fancy you."

"I think I fancy you too. But I couldn't... I didn't dare imagine you'd feel the same," he said, exhibiting a quiet vulnerability few ever saw from him.

He stared at her. She stared at him. Neither moved. Outside, it had started to pour. The sound of heavy droplets against the roof and windows echoed through the basement dungeon. She bit her lip in nervous anticipation. He breathed deeply and evenly, trying to convince himself he wasn't simply fantasizing again.

"So..." Hermione broke the silence. "Do you _want_ to kiss me?"

"I want to kiss you." He stepped closer, so his body was touching the table, with her thighs on either side of his hips. He placed his hands gently on her waist.

She ran her delicate hands up his chest, coming to rest on the backs of his shoulders. "You can. If you want to."

"I want to." He wiped his thumbs across her cheeks, clearing way a couple of late-escapee tears.

"Then you should."

"Alright..." He leaned down, anxiety and excitement filling him. "I shall."

"Alright." Her eyes closed.

His eyes closed.

Her tummy fluttered as her lips parted ever-so-slightly.

His heart fluttered as his lips finally met hers.

It was, perhaps, the sweetest, gentlest kiss she'd ever experienced.

He tried to pull away after a moment, but she placed a firm hand at the base of his neck and pulled him back down to her. This time her lips parted more, enough to grant access to his tongue. As the kiss deepened, his hands traveled up and down her back as she pressed her breasts against his chest. Suddenly, she kissed him desperately, wantonly, nipping at his lip, attacking his tongue with hers, causing – though not to her knowledge – an uncomfortable tug in his groin.

"Fuck," he groaned, battling the desire to take this farther… not only for purposes of propriety, but because he didn't trust the abilities of his own body. Even so, he grabbed her arse, pulling her closer to the edge of the table, thrust against her, and kissed her harder, wanting her, wanting so much more than friendship and a kiss.

"Yes," she moaned, lightly scratching the back of his neck with her short nails, eager to feel something other than sorrow or shame, content to feel wanted, not for her body, but for _her._ She tilted back her head, encouraging his lips to make their way from her mouth to her jawline to the center of her throat. He began to suck on the spot where her neck met her shoulder. "Yes, please, Severus… Yes… Yes, there… Don't stop..."

"I won't stop..."

Their lips met again. Over and over again they kissed, awakening a passion that had long been dormant for both. She dug her nails into his back, making him gasp and groan from a now-familiar combination of pleasure and pain. His hand was just making its way up from her waist to her breast when the grandfather clock up in the sitting room began to chime.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

"Damn," she said, placing her hand on top of his and shifting it back down to her hip. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving, and her lips were puffy. "It's five o'clock. I need to go relieve my sitter."

"Yes," he said, equally at a loss for air. "That's... rather... responsible of you."

"Yes."

"Yes." He backed away enough to allow her room to slip off the table.

"Well…" She smiled, sort of embarrassed, and squeezed his hand, unable to reconcile the attentive, desirable man before her with the formidable, domineering professor she'd known in her youth. "I'll see you on Wednesday?"

"Of course."

They exchanged an awkward smile.

Too soon, she apparated home to make dinner for her children, over which they talked about the day's playground excursion.

He ate alone, trying to lose himself in Muriel Spark's The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, but he couldn't concentrate on the plot.

Wednesday seemed a world away.

-0-0-0-

Meanwhile, in Wiltshire, England, an eleven-year-old girl debated names for her brand new pet, an endangered Indian Forest Owlet, while trying to block out the screaming row being had in the bedroom down the hall.

She stroked the soft feathered head of the bird.

"Soon, we're headed off to Hogwarts," she whispered, ignoring the sound of breaking glass, followed by an anguished cry. She wondered whether the bruises would be visible the next day. If so, as usual, she would pretend not to notice. "Soon, we'll be far, far away."


	13. The Soul of Wit

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

 **Brevity is the soul of wit.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

On Wednesday, she helped him in the potions lab, using newly purchased ingredients in an attempt to create a pain potion that was both non-addictive and didn't come with the side-effect of full-body numbness. If this attempt proved futile, he would be willing to try using the potentially deadly Dragon's Nightshade as she suggested, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"It has to simmer for another forty-eight hours, but then we shall see if it works," he said. He glanced at the clock on his desk. It was nearly five.

"Do you want to come for dinner again?" she asked, smiling nervously.

"On Friday?"

"Or… tonight?"

He smiled, stepping closer to her. "I believe I'm available tonight."

"I'll apparate. I disconnect the Floo Network when I'm not home so no unexpected guests turn up to surprise Eloise and the children. I'll fix it once she's gone… You could arrive around… six?"

"Six works."

"Excellent." She smiled up at him.

He wanted to kiss her, to touch her as he had two days prior, to enact all of the fantasies he'd entertained in the forty-eight hours since, but since he'd yet to consume any potion he wasn't sure he could stand the pain. Besides, what if she was regretting their encounter? Unsure of himself and where he stood, he leaned down and pressed his lips briefly to the tip of her small upturned nose, hoping she wouldn't push him away.

She didn't.

"I'll see you in one hour?"

"Yes." He returned the smile. "In one hour."

-0-0-0-

An hour later, Hermione was scrambling to finish cooking while the children wreaked havoc across the sitting room. The couch pillows and afghan were on the floor with their library books, the clothes Eloise had so helpfully folded, and all of their toys. Henry was jumping from the couch to the coffee table with a long stick between his knees, pretending to play Quidditch. Helena was crying because one of her little siblings ripped several pages out of her copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard. And Hero was pulling baby wipes out of a container, tossing them in the air and giggling as they fell around her.

"Helena, can you take those from her, please?" called Hermione as she stirred the spaghetti sauce. Spaghetti, meatballs, garlic bread, and salad had seemed like the easiest thing to throw together last-minute, but making it wasn't going as smoothly for her as it had for Eloise with the kids a couple of months ago.

"Mummy, this is my favorite book and it's ruined!"

"I'll mend it later!"

"What if it can't be mended?"

"Then we'll buy a new one!" Hermione dipped the wooden spoon into the sauce to taste test it. Delicious.

"Henry getsa Snitch! Henry getsa Snitch!"

"Henry John Granger, stop jumping on that couch, you're going to hurt yourself!"

"No!" shouted the boy, giggling gleefully as he made another leap from the table to the couch. "I jump! I jump!"

"Henry John Granger, I believe your mother asked you to stop doing that."

Henry froze.

Helena froze.

Hero froze.

Even Hermione froze.

"Sowwy, Pofessah," said Henry, his brown eyes wide as he stared up at the man who'd just stepped out of their fireplace. He plopped down on his bottom, holding out the stick. "Is my bwoom."

"It looks like a stick," said Severus.

"No, is a bwoom," insisted Henry, holding it up higher.

Severus flicked his wand. The end of the stick sprouted long, tapered whiskery bristles, while the wood of the handle became shiny and smooth, changing shape slightly to resemble the old Cleansweep 5, the broom Severus had ridden in school (back when he didn't make the Quidditch team even though he was a fast, capable flyer. Popular, good-looking Zander Montague had been named Keeper instead).

Henry gasped. "Is a bwoom!" he exclaimed, a look of delighted disbelief on his face. He scrambled up, threw a leg over it, and was thrilled to discover in addition to looking authentic, it had the ability to hover in midair, about two feet off the ground. He zoomed from one end of the room to the other.

"Make certain you hold on," said Severus, sounding bored, as if he hadn't just given the boy the greatest gift since his dump truck… possible since _ever_. "And no more jumping on the furniture, understand?"

"Okay, Pofessah!"

Hermione smiled (even though she wasn't keen on her toddler flying around the flat) and greeted Severus, then turned back to the simmering sauce.

"Professor, can you mend my book? Mummy knows how but she's busy." Helena held up Tales of Beedle the Bard, showing Severus the torn pages. With another flick of his wand and a wordless incantation, the pages reinserted themselves in the binding, the ripped pages repaired.

Helena thanked him profusely, hugging the book to her chest. Now Severus turned his attention to Hero, who had resumed removing wipes from their container. He waved his wand, which sent the wipes flying back in, and lifted the baby, grateful the potion he'd taken shortly after Hermione left that afternoon was fast-acting. Though he felt uncomfortable on account of the neuropathy in his limbs, it was preferable to pain.

"I have no idea what to do with you," he said. "I know precious little about babies."

"Hi," she replied, opening and closing her fist in a wave. "Hi-hi."

"Hello."

"You can set her down in her high chair," Hermione called over her shoulder. "Dinner is just about ready."

Dinner went reasonably well. Henry slurped his spaghetti while Hero squished it between her fingers and Helena again tried her best at making adult conversation ("There's some question regarding the authenticity of the Prophet's news articles as of late, according to my sources," she said, which was directly quoted from a woman they'd sat near while having lunch in Hogsmeade over the weekend. "Don't you agree?").

After dinner, Hermione suggested watching a movie using the VCR.

"What?" asked Severus.

"A movie," said Hermione. "You're half-Muggle. Haven't you heard of movies?"

"Movies, yes, but it was my understand movies were to be enjoyed in a movie theatre. What is a VCR?"

"It's sort of… sort of a Pensieve, but for movies rather than memories. You put in a video cassette and play back the footage," said Hermione.

"Like a projector?"

"I'll show you!" Helena took him by the hand and led him back into the sitting room. She tapped the small square box in the corner, the television. Atop it was a black and silver rectangular box with a slot in front. "This is the VCR. Mummy, can you move the telly?"

Hermione waved her wand. "Wingdardium Leviosa." The television set, VCR, and table on which they sat lifted from the floor and moved directly in front of the fireplace, opposite the couch, nearly touching the coffee table. "We bought it over the weekend," she explained to Severus. "I don't want the children to rot out their brains with mindless television, but I thought the occasional movie before bed or on a rainy day might be nice, especially since we can get them from the library. On Sunday we brought home 'The Lion King' and 'Bambi.'"

"Let's watch 'The Lion King!'" requested Helena. "We've already seen Bambi and it's sad."

"Lion King!" shouted Henry.

"Lie-nin!" echoed Hero.

"'The Lion King' it is," said Hermione. She waved her wand and the remaining mess on the floor picked itself up, with the toys going back in the toy box, the clothes going back in the clothes basket, and the pillows and blanket going back on the back of the couch. She popped popcorn and hurried into the bedroom to change the children into pajamas while Severus poured them each a small glass of water (no juice before bedtime, she explained). Shortly thereafter they were all comfortably arranged in a row, completely engrossed in the classic Disney film.

Especially Severus.

"You know, this actually reminds me a bit of Shakespeare's Hamlet," he said, just after Scar killed his brother, King Mufasa, and urged the little cub Prince Simba to run. "Claudius sent his nephew to England, figuring he'd be killed there, with the intention of marrying Hamlet's mother and ruling Denmark. I imagine once the pride knows Mufasa and Simba are dead, Scar will rule, with Simba's mother as his queen."

"Hush," said Helena, leaning forward, her eyes still glistening with the tears she'd shed when Simba tried to wake his father. She was seated to her mother's left. "Don't talk during the movie, Professor. It's impolite."

Apologetically, Hermione patted Severus on the knee. They were seated in the center of the couch, with Hero fast asleep between them. Henry had insisted upon curling up beside Severus, to his right. The boy munched on popcorn, only partially grasping the plot, but enchanted just the same.

Henry fell asleep shortly after Simba decided to return to Pride Rock to reclaim his crown and save the other animals from the tyranny of King Scar. Helena, on the other hand, remained wide awake and still, staring intently at the screen, until the credits rolled.

"That was better than 'Bambi,'" she whispered. "I wish I was a lion."

"Perhaps you will be, someday," said Severus. "Your mother and I have known witches and wizards who could transform themselves into a number of different animals, including a cat, a beetle, a wolf, and a rabbit."

"Whose Animagus is a rabbit?" asked Hermione.

"Your friend Miss Lovegood, the future Mrs. Scamander. She recently registered with the Ministry. It was in the Prophet a couple of weeks ago."

"I must have missed it. I can picture her as a rabbit, though. It was her Patronus too. Well, come on, Helena. Off you go to bed." She picked up Hero. "I'll be back for Henry."

"I can carry him," said Severus. Though the pain potion didn't make his weak arms any stronger, he lifted the boy with far greater ease than before. Working out was paying off.

They brought the sleeping children into the bedroom, Helena in tow. Hermione had already said they were skipping bath, but when Helena let out a huge yawn and rubbed her tired eyes, Hermione decided just this once they could skip tooth-brushing too. She set Hero in her crib and gestured toward the inside of the bed by the wall when Severus asked where to put Henry. Helena crawled into bed beside her brother and closed her eyes.

Severus and Hermione returned to the sitting room. She moved the television back to the corner and set a fire in the fireplace.

"It did have similarities to Hamlet," said Severus. Now that the film was over it was safe to speak. "Though I can't imagine Hamlet and Ophelia singing on the backs of elephants while being berated by a grumpy bird."

Hermione laughed. And she kept right on laughing as Severus put far too much thought into all aspects of the animated classic, comparing and contrasting it with one of the bard's greatest works, and generally proving he had been as enchanted by it as the children.

"That Scar was an interesting villain. He didn't have any redeeming qualities, and yet he felt like a fully-fleshed out character..."

While he continued to talk about the movie, dissecting the plot and delving into the intentions of the characters, she looked him over as if seeing him for the first time. He was smiling as he spoke, and his eyes were crinkled at the corners, which made his face look younger, more carefree, than she had ever seen it. His pale skin was not as sallow as it had been ten-plus years before, possibly because he was no longer sleep-deprived and malnourished, though the timbre of his voice was as deep and silky as ever. He was slimmer than he'd been during her years at Hogwarts, but his shoulders were still broad and manly, the way beanpole Ron's would never be, though she liked that Severus wasn't muscular like Reginald. She no longer saw him as the Potions professor she and her friends had feared as first years, misunderstood as fifth years, loathed during their year on the run, and revered once the truth had come out. Now, she saw him as a person, independent of all that history, albeit a person with a mysterious past, a veritable enigma. She saw him as the man who, despite his admitted aversion to children, delighted hers without pandering to them in an attempt to appeal to her. She saw him as the man who was not afraid to challenge her intellectually, whether they were discussing literature, potential potions concoctions, or a Disney film.

She saw all this, and she liked what she saw.

That's why, when Severus was smack in the middle of explaining why he found the hyenas particularly entertaining, Hermione shut him up by impulsively pressing her lips to his.

Not one to ask unnecessary questions or waste an opportunity, he pulled her into his lap, so she was straddling him, and returned the kiss. The pain potion was beginning to wear off, but only so much that having her balanced on his thighs was uncomfortable, like pressing on a bruise, rather than unbearable.

His hands traveled from her arse up her back and down again. Meanwhile she wrapped one arm around his shoulders, caressed his cheek with her opposite hand, and attempted to snog him as senseless as he'd long wanted to do her.

He slipped his fingertips just under the material of her shirt, feeling the soft skin of her lower back, as she thrust her body against his, making his breath hitch in his throat.

Then her hands were making their way up his shirt, over his chest, down to the waist of his trousers… she grabbed hold of the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up and off, tossing it to the floor behind her. This emboldened him to slide his hand up hers, coming to rest over her breast. He fingered the lacy material of her bra, vaguely aware that his numbness was waning as his blood flooded to one part of his anatomy… She nipped at his neck, then sat back on his thighs and removed her own shirt, tossing it away as she had his.

"Fuck," he groaned, his eyes making their way from her slender neck to her collar bone, over her breasts and down the flat expanse of her stomach. She'd gained weight in the two months since she'd started working for him, but was still naturally slim. He kissed her lips, then down her neck, along her chest, and down to her left breast, which was cupped in his hand.

He flicked his tongue under the material of her bra, making her gasp, as his free hand gripped her arse firmly.

"You can take it off," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. He groaned as she sucked briefly on his earlobe before again nipping at his neck, moving his hair aside for easier access.

He brought his hands up to the center of the band of her bra behind her back and undid the clasp, divesting her of it, letting it fall. This better enabled him to flick his tongue over the round, hardened pebble in the center of her nipple, eliciting from her a moan of arousal. He did it again… and again… and again… until she was barely breathing, begging for him.

"Please… please… yes… Severus…" She squirmed, feeling the pressure building inside her, causing a dampening between her legs as she grinded shamelessly against his tenting trousers, turned on by the realization she was exciting him as much as he was her.

Without warning, he flipped them so that she was on her back on the couch and he was positioned over her, her thighs still on either side of his hips. He kissed down her chest, over her breasts, to her ribcage. She had a small dark red birthmark, shaped almost like a heart, on her skin there. He pressed his lips to it and she arched against him, needing more. She pulled him back up to her mouth, kissing him hard.

He thrust against her in a simulation of what they both wanted but were vaguely aware they were not ready for. She bucked her hips and grasped at him, pulling him into yet another breath-stealing kiss, on the verge of losing control. It had been too long. For both.

"Fuck, yes, you're beautiful," he growled, slipping one hand between the couch and her arse, squeezing it. She reached down between them to fix her skirt, which was hitched halfway up her thighs. The back of her hand brushed against his groin momentarily as she tugged down on the material of her skirt to better cover her body. This he felt, as the full-body numbness he'd been experiencing all evening had almost completely dissipated. He groaned, overcome by this mix of pleasure and pain. "I need you. I need you, Hermione. Let me have you. Let me... let me..." He kissed her again, his hand entangled in her hair, as she slid her hands up his bare chest to his pecs.

"Wait... wait... Severus... Stop..."

"What?" He was panting, uncomfortably hard, trying to ignore the stinging sensation overtaking his skin, the unmistakable aching in his muscles, the growing soreness in his limbs. "What's wrong?"

"You don't think I'm too brazen, throwing myself at you?"

"Are you..." Severus struggled slow his movements. "Are you throwing yourself at me?"

"It's just... I think, perhaps, I... We... It seems we..." She took several deep breaths, collecting herself. "Have we gotten carried away?"

"Fuck," he said again. He leaned forward, inhaling the sweet coconut scent of her hair. She was right. They needed to stop. This needed to stop. It was too much, too fast. Not only for him physically, but for both of them… in general. Which he sensed she thought too, otherwise she wouldn't have asked the question. "I don't think you're brazen, but yes, we... may be... getting... carried away."

"I'm not a whore," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "What Malfoy said in the Alley, it wasn't true, I'm not…"

"I don't put much stock in what Malfoy says." He kissed her shoulder and collapsed on top of her, exhausted. Even his Sunday stair climbs and weight lifting hadn't prepared him for this.

"If we're going to… if we want…" She drew her hands up his spine, coming to rest on the backs of his shoulders. "If there's something… I'm not sure if…"

"We're in danger of moving too fast on account of how long it's... been. I know what you're thinking. I'm a Legilimens."

"Yes." She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, coming down off a momentary high. He, too, was trying to regain the good sense he'd lost when his heart stopped sending blood to his brain and started directing it elsewhere. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Gently, he kissed her temple.

"I'm in no rush," he assured her.

"Nor am I," she said. "Quite the contrary, despite how it might seem at the moment. But… I like you. I like you a lot."

"That's nice," he said dryly, using his classroom lecture voice. "Meanwhile, I find you sufficiently tolerable."

She giggled and lightly smacked his upper arm. "You're terrible. Get off me."

Though her light tap had actually rather smarted, he laughed as he sat up, then grabbed his wand from the coffee table. "Accio shirt."

As he dressed, she suddenly became aware of her own half-nakedness and blushed. She covered herself with a throw pillow and reached for her own discarded shirt.

"I should go," he said.

"I'll see you Friday," she said. "And we can... talk."

"That would be... wise." He stood, stretched, and mentally cursed his stiff back and sore limbs, not to mention the other currently attention-seeking bit of his anatomy. Ignoring all this, he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to her lips before heading to the fireplace.

"I wouldn't mind attending another of these movie nights in the future," he added, just before tossing down the Floo Powder. "Snape home, Spinner's End."

She pulled her shirt back on, tossed her bra in the clean clothes basket, and headed for the loo.

She was in dire need of a long, hot bath.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thanks for reading, reviewing, following, sending PMs, and adding to faves! Not much mystery or drama in this one, but I thought some lighter fluff stuff might be nice. Chapter 14 will be posted on either Friday or Saturday. As an aside, some of your predictions are scarily spot-on, while there are several Qs I can't answer without giving spoilers. I love reading them, though! For those who celebrate - hope you're having a happy Passover! Greek (Orthodox) Holy Week started on April 9th as Easter is on the same date as Western Christian Easter this year, so if you're a fellow Greek, _yassas!_

 **-AL**


	14. Proud, Revengeful, Ambitious

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

 **"I am proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offenses at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in…"**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Three days later, Severus was practicing climbing the stairs to the basement potions lab when a knock at the door upstairs startled him. Thanks to the newly brewed pain potion, he was not hurting as much as usual, but the numbness had been replaced by a different sort of discomfort - unrelenting pins and needles in his hands and feet - and didn't do enough to ease his aching joints.

The knocking continued. He took the last two steps to the basement lab, grabbed his cane from atop the table, and hurried back to the stairs.

He hoped it would be Hermione, though there was no reason she'd be dropping by on a Saturday. He'd just seen her the afternoon before. They'd worked in the garden, as they usually did on Fridays, and did not speak of their post-movie night encounter except to agree that work time would be for working… a rule they broke at 4:37, after the skies opened up and suddenly showered them with rain, thus forcing them back inside to change out of their wet gardening attire.

Which led to them finding themselves side by side on the couch with nothing to do.

So he took a dose of the new pain potion.

Then they made out like teenagers.

Lips and tongues connected until both were flushed and breathless. Clothes stayed on, though hands (his tingling) wandered both over and under from the waist up. Both mentally ordered themselves not to become 'too aroused,' but they did anyway. When the clock chimed five he was sorer than if he'd climbed the stairs a thousand times, but he was happy. So was she, despite the love bite forming on her neck, which she used a Glamour to conceal before heading home to relieve Eloise.

He spent Friday night and Saturday morning in his lab, more determined than ever to create a better pain potion that would alleviate the muscle aches and skin sensitivity without rendering him numb from the neck down _or_ making his extremities feel as if they'd just awoken from a long sleep. On Friday she had again suggested use of the Dragon's Nightshade from the garden, but as that was an exceptionally dangerous ingredient if used improperly, he remained reluctant to toss it in and swallow it down. Perhaps during her shift on Monday they could go shopping for lab rats.

The impatient pounding at the front door persisted. Severus, finally reaching the top step, tossed the cane aside to avoid appearing weak to his surprise visitor, and, without first checking the peep hole, yanked the door open.

Standing on his front step was none other than Lucius Malfoy, long blond hair shining in the sunlight, a vague smirk on his lips, with the snake's head walking stick in his left hand. He was wearing a floor length black robe that looked to be made of dragon skin leather over a gray silk shirt and black trousers, as fit at 56 as he'd been at 25. He eyeballed Severus, clearly judging what he saw.

"My, my, Professor Snape. Don't you look delightfully Muggle today?"

Severus, as he'd been exercising, was dressed for comfort, not style. He had on soft cotton pajama bottoms, green, with a slightly oversized black cotton tee-shirt that did not hide his faded Dark Mark, and no wizard's robe.

"Something you need, Malfoy?"

"Yes. Aren't you going to invite me in, old friend?" Without awaiting a response, Lucius pushed passed Severus and made his way straight to the liquor by the back wall of the sitting room. "I assume you were about to offer me a drink. Don't exert yourself. I can manage." He selected the best bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey and poured two tumblers full. He offered one to Severus. "To old times?" Lucius raised his glass and clinked it against Severus'. They each took a sip.

It burned going down, but no worse than the pain potions. It occurred to Severus it had been a long time – years, perhaps – since he'd consumed any liquor aside from the occasional glass of elf made red wine. He briefly wondered whether Ogden's Firewhiskey might help him to control his pain without rendering him unable to feel… it wouldn't be a cure, but if might help him better _interact_ with Ms. Granger. He pushed the thought from his head even though he knew Lucius was no Legilimens and therefore there was no risk of him sensing it.

"How _have_ you been, mate?"

"So we're mates, are we?" Severus cocked an eyebrow. "Last time you visited you made it clear it was the last time you would visit. What brings you here now?"

"Don't you know?" Lucius made his way toward the couch but rather than sit on it he pointed his wand at the rocking chair by the fireplace and uttered an incantation, transfiguring it into the sort of chair he was more used to – hard-backed, leather seat, ornately carved dark wood arms – and settled into it. Severus sat on the couch, a pillow behind his sore back, and waited. When Lucius did not elucidate, Severus said, "Obviously, I do not."

"You employ Miss Granger," began Lucius, swirling his whiskey unnecessarily.

"I do, indeed." Severus confirmed sharply.

"She's… grown up quite a bit, hasn't she? Since she was your student."

"She has."

"Yes… But she _was_ your student. You've known her since she was a little girl, correct?"

"You know I have."

"Therefore I assume, since she is your employee, and since you've known her since childhood, that there is nothing salacious going on between you."

"Salacious?" asked Severus, eyebrow raised, already unhappy about where this seemed to be going. "Why do you ask? Submitting an article to the Daily Prophet's gossip pages?"

"Hardly. I'm simply making the assumption that she is your employee and nothing more, on account of the fact you've known her since childhood. Am I correct?"

"She _is_ my employee," confirmed Severus. "But I don't see what having known her since childhood has to do with anything. What do you want?"

"Always straight to the point with you, Snape. No finesse at all. " Lucius shook his head as if disappointed by this. "Very well, you win. I'll be candid. Despite her unfortunate blood-status, I've always found Miss Granger rather attractive."

"Always?" Severus. "Haven't you also known her since childhood? She tells me she met you shortly before beginning her second year at Hogwarts, which would put her at approximately… twelve… years of age. You found her attractive then, did you? I hardly recall what she looked like sixteen years ago, but then, I wasn't looking as closely as you must have been, as it was not my custom to leer over little girls."

Lucius sneered. "If you're trying to imply I have a sexual interest in children, stop it. I like younger women, but I like them to be _women._ Not girls."

"I've heard rumors to the contrary. How old was Narcissa when you told her parents you wanted to marry her?"

"She was fourteen, but I was only seventeen, the match was proposed by my parents, and this is beneath you. You know I am no pedophile. And I don't recall making Miss Granger's acquaintance back then. If I did, it was only in passing, and has since slipped my mind."

"But surely you recall making her acquaintance in the Department of Mysteries when she was a fifth year, on your failed mission for the Dark Lord. You found her attractive then?"

"I did, actually. She wasn't a 'little girl' in 1996, Severus. I wouldn't have touched her, though. Not yet."

"At sixteen she was old enough to pant over but not old enough to touch?"

"I had no desire to end up in Azkaban over what could wait a year."

"But you _did_ end up in Azkaban," Severus pointed out simply to aggravate his former friend. "You spent _over a year_ in Azkaban, didn't you? All because Hermione and Potter and their gang of hero-complex children were able to thwart you, Bellatrix, several other Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord himself. The Dark Lord saved only one of you, if I recall correctly. He left the rest of you to rot."

"Perhaps if I'd been pregnant at the time, he'd have saved me too," snapped Lucius. "But as he had little vested interest in any of us save for his whore, he was not so concerned with our outcomes."

Severus sneered. "You seem to like that word, Lucius. 'Whore.' I don't terribly mind it when used to describe Bellatrix, though they say you shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but when directed at Ms. Granger…"

"It's fitting, don't you think?" asked Lucius. He sipped the whiskey. "In both cases."

Severus narrowed his eyes and set his own whiskey on the end table.

"Why are you here, Lucius? You said you would get to the point. I'm waiting."

"Here it is: I'll double what you pay her for an hour a week."

"Excuse me?"

"Every two weeks, even. I'm not a greedy man."

"I don't understand."

Lucius laughed. "Don't you? I'm saying I'll pay, Severus. I'll pay handsomely. I'll pay to enjoy her on occasion. I'll double what she makes – hell, I'll throw an equal amount in your direction too, for your trouble – simply to have her once in awhile. Preferably here, or at an inn perhaps, as Narcissa will probably disapprove - not that it's for her to say, but I'd rather not make my home life more difficult than it already is." He cracked his knuckles, his smile faltering just a twinge at the thought of his increasingly combative wife. "Don't worry, though, mate. I'll not ruin Miss Granger. I'll always return her to you in the condition in which she was received."

"If this is a joke, you need a better punchline," said Severus dryly.

"No joke. I no longer engage in affairs - women get attached, Narcissa gets annoyed - but this could be an acceptable alternative. So. How much are you paying? What does she permit you to do? I wouldn't like to adhere to many rules, but I'm not adverse to extra pay for extra work."

"You want to pay both me and Ms. Granger so you can…?"

"So I can fuck her every now and then, yes."

Severus kept a blank face, difficult as it was. "You think that's what I employ her for? Sex?"

"I saw you in the alleyway, Severus." Lucius' lips curled into a devilish smile. "She's not here sweeping your floors and dusting your shelves, is she?"

"Why wouldn't she be?"

"I've never come a _sickle's width_ away…" He held his fingers slightly apart. "From snogging one of my house elves while on a shopping excursion. I caught the way you looked at each other. She's clearly providing you with more than a bit of help around the house."

"She is a legitimate employee," insisted Severus. He grabbed his glass and took a long swig of the whiskey, willing himself to remain in control despite the fury that was boiling up from inside him like lava bubbling just under the surface of a volcano. "She assists me with shopping, cooking, and cleaning, with potions brewing and tending to the garden. That is all."

"I think you're lying."

"Then you have completely misread the relationship she and I have. I resent both your proposal and the insinuation that I would have to pay for sex, not to mention the suggestion that she would offer herself up for galleons, and especially the notion that I would accept money to prostitute her. I am not that sort of man and she is not that sort of woman."

"Isn't she?" Lucius finished his whiskey and sent the tumbler floating back to the liquor cabinet. "Hasn't she told you… about me? About us?"

"She told me you behaved most inappropriately toward her while she worked at the Ministry. It's partly the reason she abruptly departed."

"She didn't tell you about the night she came to me at Malfoy Manor? The night she came _for_ me at Malfoy Manor?"

"I don't believe you," said Severus, but a part of him… a part of him did. He could usually tell when someone was not telling the truth, even without pointing his wand and whispering "Legilimens." Lucius gave off no such dishonest vibe.

"She has a birthmark, right here," said Lucius, touching his index and middle fingers to his right ribs. "It's rose-colored, almost heart-shaped. Then there's a scar from Bella's knife, here…" His fingertips moved to the inner left thigh. "And it's probably gone now, but I left the imprint of my teeth approximately here…" He tapped the spot on his back where his neck met his shoulder. "When I bit her while taking her from behind. I think she liked that." Catching Severus' repulsed expression, Lucius grinned more broadly. "Don't believe me yet, old friend? What more can I say to convince you? Shall I describe in detail her perfectly round little pink nipples? The firm, nicely rounded shape of her arse? Or the sweet, tangy taste of her cunt?"

Severus slashed his wand across the air and shouted, "Silencio!"

Rather than look upset by this curse, Lucius laughed (though no sound came out). He merely tapped his wand to his throat and thought, "Finite Incantatum," cancelling out the silencing spell. He laughed again, out loud this time, as overly cocky as he'd always been. The sound grated on Severus' ears.

"She's not _merely_ your employee, but you haven't fucked her yet either, have you? How... pathetic."

"She is not _merely_ my employee," agreed Severus, aware that his face was turning purple with anger he was increasingly losing the battle to control. "I also consider her a friend – a friend and nothing more – and I'll not have you disrespect my friend in this way. Get out of my home."

"You want to watch, Severus? I assume you are still able to read the minds of others just as you were able to block others from reading yours? Go ahead. Take a gander at my memories. If you're telling the truth, and you're only friends, this may be the sole opportunity for you to see what she's capable of, to know what she looks like naked, on her back, or on her knees, in the submissive position befitting of her blood-status."

"Sounds lovely. Just let me get my Pensieve," suggested Severus, speaking sardonically but clearly fuming. "Then I can watch your memory and, in exchange, you can watch some of mine."

"Some of yours?" Lucius scoffed. "Why would I be interested in some of yours?"

"Why? Oh." Severus laughed scornfully. "Didn't I mention? True, I have never shagged Ms. Granger, but I have, on numerous occasions, fucked your wife."

The smirk melted off Lucius' smug face. "That's a lie."

"Is it?" Now Severus was the one wearing a satisfied smirk. "Go ahead, Lucius. Ask her."

"I will," said Lucius, fixing Severus with an icy stare. "And it had better be a bloody lie… for her sake."

"Get out of my home, Malfoy. You are no longer welcome here. I can't say you ever truly were."

"This isn't over," said Lucius. He rose from the chair and threw his empty whiskey glass into the fireplace, where it shattered. "I want your Mudblood and I always get what I want."

"Go home to Narcissa," said Severus, waving his hand dismissively, sounding bored. "I believe the two of you have an awful lot to talk about."

"Fuck you."

"Get out."

The second Lucius was outside, he apparated.

Severus slammed shut the door, returned to the couch, and plopped down, resting his head in his hands, feeling ashamed for having been goaded into selling out Narcissa, one of his few friends (if they could still be considered friends). He was furious by what Lucius had said about Hermione, not least of all because he suspected it was true, but while the mental image of that vile man biting her shoulder assaulted him in his mind's eye, he also couldn't shake Lucius' words from his head: _"I want your Mudblood and I always get what I want..."_ reverberating around along with the line, _"It had better be a lie... for her sake."_

Damn it.

He had to talk to Hermione.

He had to warn Narcissa.

He needed another drink.

In that moment, he hated himself for his inability to control his temper. He had lost so much since the war. Back then, he could handle his anger, quell it, push it deep down away from the surface so that the Dark Lord could not access it. Admittedly, he had faltered on occasion. He was still embarrassed by his visceral reaction to finding Potter viewing his worst memory in his Pensieve and wasn't proud of his subsequent refusal to continue teaching the boy Occlumency, but in his defense, that was one significant break in seventeen years. This time, Lucius Malfoy had barely had to push his buttons for him to go off, potentially hurting two of the very few women he had ever cared about.

What had he done?

* * *

 **A/N:**

I know I'd said I would update on Fri or Sat, but I'm behind on my edits for my MG novel so I wanted to get this out now in case I don't have time to get online between now and Monday, which is when Chapter 15 will be up. Thanks for reading!

 **-AL**


	15. A Whole History

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

 **Sir, a whole history.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Hermione took the children to the zoo Saturday afternoon because they'd been begging to go, but she hated it. All of those poor wild animals, locked in cages, getting gawked at by ignorant humans, having their pictures taken by entitled tourists, being teased by bratty children.

It helped a wee bit to learn that many of the animals had been bred in captivity to avoid extinction or rescued from poachers after being injured and likely would've been killed had they not ended up transferred out of the wild, but still… so many cages. Trapped. No choice. No way to live.

Hero, Henry, and Helena loved it, though, and insisted upon poking around the gift shop before going home. There was a collection of plastic animal figurines with a placard explaining that profits from the purchase of them went toward reintroducing recuperated animals into the wild, which made her think of her work with Severus, and when Hermione realized one was shaped like a sweet-faced bat, she buckled and let them each pick one to bring home.

Hero went for a zebra, Henry selected a snake, and Helena, unsurprisingly, chose a lion.

"I'm going to call mine Simba," she announced delightedly.

"Snakey-snake," said Henry, holding up his.

"Cat!" Hero waved her zebra, then popped its head in her mouth.

"You can't name your zebra cat!" Helena rolled her eyes. "That doesn't make sense."

"It's a fine name." Hermione strapped Hero back into her stroller and hurried them toward the back exit of the zoo, where employees, not patrons, parked. She didn't want to risk anyone seeing when she and the children boarded the Knight Bus.

They were home by dinnertime, but when they entered, they were surprised to find their sitting room occupied.

"Severus!" Hermione exclaimed. He was standing in front of the fireplace, apparently having just stepped out. She must have forgotten to disconnect before they left. Without realizing she'd done it, she thrust her new toy bat behind her back, perhaps subconsciously afraid he'd somehow know she'd chosen it because it reminded her of him.

"We need to talk," he said seriously. Her heart plummeted into her stomach. He had bad news. He must.

"What about?"

"Lucius Malfoy paid me a visit today."

She dropped the bat. Bad news, indeed.

"Why?"

Severus eyed the children, who were watching them curiously. "I can't say."

She nodded. "Why don't you join us for dinner and we can talk after… once the kids are asleep?"

"I not seepy!" shouted Henry, misunderstanding. "No seep! No seep!" He tossed his toy snake to the floor. "Fuck seep!"

"Augh!" shouted Severus, pointing at the snake, a look of exaggerated horror on his face. "It's a snake!"

"No, is a toy," said Henry, giggling. He reached for it. Severus flicked his wand, and the snake wiggled. "Eek!" shrieked Henry, jumping back. "Is a snake!"

Severus made the snake slither over toward the boy, who watched with a mix of apprehension and excitement, unsure of what to make of this toy that was not quite real, but no longer strictly plastic. The snake's eyes opened, its tongue flicked, and it hissed.

"Is awiiiive!" shouted Henry, eyes bright like a mad scientist. He picked up the creature and kissed the top of its scaly head. "I wuv you, Snakey-snake!"

"That's not fair," said Helena, holding up her lion. "Simba's not alive."

"Isn't he?" asked Severus. With another flick of his wand, the four inch long lion stretched, shook out his mane, and let loose a loud roar. Helena gasped, staring lovingly down at it.

"Oh, thank you, thank you Professor! I always wanted a pet!"

"Those toys better not be sentient," warned Hermione as she unbuckled Hero from her seat. "I don't want them moving around the flat on their own when we're asleep and I'm _not_ feeding them."

"Fear not," said Severus. "The charm only lasts an hour or so."

He charmed Hero's zebra too and even Hermione had to laugh watching the sixteen-month-old crawling around at top speed, unable to catch it, calling "Cat! Cat!"

He then joined her in the kitchen, where she started to throw together a quick dinner. She'd made shepherd's pie two nights before that she intended to re-heat with new sides. While she was throwing it in the oven, Severus put together a salad.

"What did Lucius say?" she asked quietly, her back to him.

"I thought we should discuss it after dinner."

"Give me the general gist."

He stood, abandoning the salad bowl on the table, and moved to stand behind her, slightly to her right side. She was chopping an onion. He kept his voice low, his mouth not far from her ear.

"The short version? He wanted me to whore you out to him. Obviously I refused. I told him he'd misinterpreted our working relationship. I told him that you and I are friends and that I was insulted on both our behalves by the request. I told him you're not that sort of woman."

"What sort?" she asked, refusing to look at him.

He placed his left hand gently on her left hip. "The sort who would trade sex for galleons."

"But I am, aren't I?" She mashed harder even though no lumps were left. "You read my ad. You know…"

"I know. But I figured he didn't need to know."

"Did he tell you… anything?"

"He said you'd slept together before."

She stopped mashing, closed her eyes, and rested her back against his chest. Thanks to the second and third glasses of whiskey he'd consumed before leaving his home for hers, he barely felt it.

"It's not what you think, I'm sure."

"It's not my business unless you want it to be," he replied, despite being so curious it was eating away at him.

She brought her right hand up to cup his cheek as his left hand moved from her hip to encircle her waist.

"I'm afraid you won't terribly like me if you know. That you won't respect me."

"I already terribly like you," he said, leaning down to brush his lips against her cheek as her hand slid to the back of his neck. "And nothing he could say, nor nothing you have done, would make me lose respect for you."

"You say that because you don't know," she whispered, but she turned her head slightly to meet his lips with hers.

They were barely kissing when the feeling of something plastic and scaly slithering up her bare leg made Hermione jump and shriek, much to Henry's delight.

"Snakey-snake say 'Hi Mummy!' See, Pofessah?" Henry collapsed into giggles as his mother plucked the wriggling toy off her skin. "Ahh, Snakey-snake's funny."

"Not so funny!" Hermione dropped the toy in her son's outstretched hands, then shot a Look in Severus' direction. To her dismay, he was barely concealing a smile. "Severus, it's not funny!"

"It's reasonably funny," said Severus, watching Henry. The boy, still giggling madly, ran back into the sitting room to drop the snake on his sister's head.

"Aughhh! Mummy! He dropped his snake on me!"

"Henry!"

"Oops!" said Henry. "Is a ask-kident."

"It was on purpose!" Helena argued, shoving him.

"Be good, children," said Severus. "Or I shall never again make your toys come to life."

"Sowwy," said Henry, removing the snake from his sister's hair, the mischievous glint not gone from his eye.

After an uneventful dinner, Hermione put Hero to bed. She turned on another rented animated movie for the older children, 'Beauty the Beast,' and gave them pretzel sticks for snack. Rather than watch with them, Hermione and Severus sat at the kitchen table, so they could talk. Now he was able to provide her with the details of Lucius' visit, which at once made her angry and filled her with great shame.

"I'll tell you what happened," she said. "The truth, all of it. But you must promise to… to try… to try not to judge me, to try to understand how desperate I was, what a precarious place I was in, how easy it was to become buried so deeply you see no other way out."

"Hermione, you're confiding in a former Death Eater." He placed his hand over hers on the table. "If there is anyone who can understand what it is like to have done something you later regret and for which you'd rather not be judged, it is I."

"I can't explain what happened with Malfoy without telling you what happened before, leading up to it, starting with Ron."

"Ron Weasley?"

"Yes. I had a crush on Ron in school. In retrospect, I'm not quite sure why. We were so different. And often he wasn't even… he wasn't even _nice_ to me. But starting around fourth year, I realized I liked him and eventually he liked me and then after You-Know-Who was defeated…"

"Voldemort."

"After _Voldemort_ was defeated, it only made sense for me and Ron to make a go of it, to see where our relationship would lead. I missed my parents something awful and Ron's family was so welcoming, plus Harry was dating Ginny so we did a lot as a foursome. From the very start, we were simply _not_ suited for each other, as Luna said, but we were able to put it aside and focus on the post-war relief, the need to move on, getting the love we both needed. We married on December 3rd, 1998. Ten years ago, almost. But once we were living together, we were miserable. He wanted to enjoy our 'Golden Trio' fame, to get free tickets for Quidditch matches, to see himself in the Daily Prophet, to coast into a career as an Auror, which he later abandoned anyway to work in his brother's joke shop, whereas I chose to return to Hogwarts to make up for my year of lost studies and to sit for my N.E.W.T.S, which he called a 'colossal waste of time.' We lived in Hogsmeade for the first seven months we were married, right above the Hog's Head, so I could get to the school easily, then moved into our own place in July. Little more than two years later, I was working at the Ministry, he was considering leaving the Auror office, we were fighting over stupid little things all the time... One evening, he turned to me and said, 'let's have a baby.' I thought he'd gone mad! I didn't want a baby! A baby wasn't going to help my career and it certainly wasn't going to fix our crumbling relationship. He wanted a family just like his own, with seven kids in close succession, whereas I thought I might someday want one or two. In November, a few weeks before our third anniversary, I left work early with a headache and arrived home to find him in bed with Lavender Brown."

"That's... less than ideal," said Severus sympathetically.

"It was, and yet… it wasn't. It gave me the excuse I needed to tell him I wanted out. He tried to convince me to stay, he said Lavender was a mistake, but he also admitted the affair had been going on for months. He agreed to stop seeing her and we tried to make it work through Christmas but in January I filed for divorce."

"He's married to Lavender now, is he not?"

"Yes, but it took awhile. He'd broken it off with her when trying to fix things with me and once he was a free man he decided, I think, to ride what was left of the fame wave into the bedrooms of half the eligible witches in the UK. He and Lavender reconciled maybe three years ago and got married last year. They have a baby now, a girl. They seem… happy." She said this with bitterness, for as much as she didn't want Ron, it bothered her that he had the life she wanted – a job he enjoyed, a devoted spouse, one child for whom he could properly care…

"So you got divorced… and then?" Severus prompted. She withdrew her hand from his, twisting her fingers anxiously.

"One month to the day after I filed for divorce, I met Reginald Park. He worked at the Ministry too. I was in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and he was in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He was advocating for the rights of house elves, to see them subjugated no more, to force those who have them to properly feed, clothe, and pay them. That was an issue dear to my heart since school, one Ron didn't understand."

"SPEW."

"What?" Hermione's eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"SPEW. That's what you called it, didn't you? Minerva brought it up in a staff meeting once, when the house elves refused to clean Gryffindor tower because a certain Prefect was hiding clothes for them. What did it stand for? I assume it was an acronym and not synonymous with vomit."

Hermione smiled despite the seriousness of the conversation. "I can't believe you knew about that, or that you remember it! It stood for Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare."

"Altruistic, but not entirely realistic. You have centuries of history and honor to undo before you can change the way house elves see themselves and their position."

"I know, and Reginald knew too, but we thought it was worth the try. I was twenty-two when we met. He was thirty-four. He seemed so grownup, so mature, so unlike Ronald. He asked me out and, I don't know, maybe I felt inadequate or unattractive or maybe I was just eager to move on, but I was positively giddy with excitement over dating him, especially as I felt I was losing my friends. Ginny was angry with me for divorcing her brother and Harry stood by her, of course, even though he promised we'd always be close. Luna had just broken up with Neville so we spent some time together at first, but then she went off to Egypt for that year-long Magiczoology study… Victor Krum was little more than a penpal with whom I had nearly nothing in common. And obviously I wasn't going to seek out a renewed friendship with Lavender and the other girls from our year. With nothing to keep me grounded, Reginald and I rushed into our relationship…"

She glanced toward the television. Belle was on the screen throwing a snowball at the Beast while an animated teapot sang, "There may be something there that wasn't there before." Hermione focused on the screen, hating how pathetic she'd been.

After a couple of quiet minutes, Severus prompted her to go on.

"I'd matured too fast during that year on the run, then rushed into adulthood with my career and marriage, and I suppose I wanted to be young and have fun. Reginald was fun, but not in an immature way, like Ron. He was 'grown up fun,' if that makes sense. He seemed perfect for me. We were both Muggleborn, both academics, both career-minded, both interested in Arithmancy and disinterested in Quidditch, both without parents - he was estranged from his - and both divorced, both proponents of elf rights and eager to end the lingering air of pureblood supremacy that has never really left the Ministry… My divorce was finalized in May. By then I was already five weeks pregnant with Helena. It… wasn't planned, obviously."

"You said you were both already divorced?"

"Yes. He'd gotten married straight out of Hogwarts…" she trailed off. "He went to Hogwarts. He went to Hogwarts! Did you know him? Reginald Park. He was a Ravenclaw. He would've started school around 1980?"

"I must have taught him potions," said Severus, wracking his brain. "But the name doesn't ring any bells. I've taught a lot of students."

"Oh." She seemed slightly crestfallen, not that it mattered whether Severus remembered him, but she was curious about what he'd been like before they knew each other. "So, as I said, I was pregnant. I'm not sure how it happened. I was on the potion. I always suspected… I wondered whether he'd tampered with it. But why? We'd only been together a couple of months. I was probably being paranoid. We married in August of that year and Helena was born the following January."

"Mummy?"

"Uh…" Hermione shook her head, shaken from the memory by the voice of her daughter. "Yes, Helena?"

"May have I more water?" She peered at her mother and Severus over the back of the couch, holding out her glass.

"Aquamenti," said Hermione. A stream of water flew from her wand, arched across the room, and filled the cup halfway. "Not too much or you'll have an accident when you're asleep."

"Thanks, Mummy." Helena turned and sat back down, again fixated on the screen of the telly. A large-muscled animated man on the screen was leading a posse from the village to the castle.

"Screw your courage to the sticking place!" the thick-necked man sang. Severus tilted his head.

"Isn't that character supposed to be illiterate?"

"What? Gaston? Oh, yes, I think so."

"He quoted Shakespeare. That line is from Macbeth."

Hermione smiled. "The Scottish Play. One of my favorites." She half-hoped he'd want to watch the end of the movie, or maybe discuss Macbeth, but he turned the conversation back to her story.

"I'd been so adamant with Ron about not wanting children until my career was well-established, but once Helena was born I found I loved being a mother and Reginald really wanted to try for a son, so we got pregnant again as soon as she was weaned, and nine months later there was Henry. I planned to leave my position at the Ministry once he was born because I figured it's much harder to be a working mother with two children at home than with one, though I intended to return to work once they were in school, but during my pregnancy things started… started to fall apart."

She closed her eyes and bit her lip. She was getting closer to the part she didn't want to share and it hurt to utter every word leading up to it.

"I ignored the signs at first. He was drinking, for one thing. He'd never been a drinker. And he was missing work; he'd always been dedicate to his job. I realized he was stressed but I didn't know why. Then he told me about his gambling debts. How much he owed. It was a small fortune, but I knew if we worked together we could pay it off. I put in as much overtime as I could at the Ministry. So did he. We were paying faithfully every week, even though it meant going without what we needed for us and occasionally also for Helena. I gave birth to Henry in April of 2005. My maternity leave was only three weeks because we couldn't go without a paycheck. We hired Mrs. Figg for a few knuts per day to watch the babies – she used to sit for Harry when he was little, she's a squib from his old Muggle neighborhood. She died last year. She was already losing it at the time, mentally I mean, but she was the best we could get on our budget. We were making due, though. Things were getting better. By the time Henry was born, Reginald had stopped drinking. By the first of June, we'd paid off what we owed. I kept working long hours, as did he, and we were finally starting to get ahead. I had hope."

She sniffled and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. It was turning red, tingling. She was going to cry. No. No, she would not cry. She could not cry. She refused to cry.

"Then came the Quidditch World Cup three Augusts ago. He bet _everything_ on the match. He bet our meager savings, our home. He bet money we didn't have. And he lost. He managed to keep it from me for months, through Christmas and Easter, but I knew something was wrong. He worked even more overtime, as much overtime as he could. He was selling off our possessions, constantly looking over his shoulder, strengthening the wards around our cottage, especially at night. Then they came… they came to collect."

"Mummy?" Helena was leaning over the back of the couch again. "Mummy, the movie is over. Henry's sleeping."

The end credits were rolling. The title song was playing. Hermione jumped up, grateful for the interruption.

"Come here, lovey." Hermione lifted her daughter over the back of the couch. Severus followed and, just as he had after their last movie night, he lifted the sleeping form of Henry from the couch. He hadn't taken any pain potion all evening and he felt it, especially as the effects of the alcohol had long since worn off, but frequent exercising was doing him good. Together they brought the children to the bedroom and tucked them in.

When they returned to the sitting room, Hermione moved the television back to the corner and started a fire. She sat on one end of the couch, hugging a pillow to her chest. Severus sat across from her, a pillow behind his back.

"Who came, Hermione?" he asked, looking her over with concern. "Who came to collect?"

"The man Reginald owed money to… and his wife. They said they'd waited long enough for what was owed. My husband swore he'd get them the galleons. At this point, our home was nearly bare. We'd sold everything we could, save for this couch, the bed, the crib, Mrs. Weasley's clock, the high chair, meager baby necessities, one copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and a week's worth of clothes each. We didn't even have a kitchen table or chairs. We ate on the floor on this afghan." She tugged at the blanket thrown over the back of the couch. "We told Helena we were picnicking. She's such a good girl. She never questioned anything."

Hermione took a sharp breath in and let it out slowly. Severus' chest hurt. He wanted to take her in his arms, to kiss her, to comfort her, but he had no idea how to do so without seeming like an opportunist, taking advantage of her painful past simply to touch her. She resumed the twisting of her fingers, the pillow pressed against her stomach, but as she relayed the next part, her expression began to change. She went from hurting and fragile to hardened and furious.

"His wife was glaring at me the entire time, like she thought if she did so with enough conviction I'd die on the spot. Then, just before they left, the man looked me over – he looked me up and down as if I were a delectable meal he'd been denied – and he said, 'I'm certain we can come to an acceptable _arrangement._ I'll be seeing you again soon And it gave me a chill. I glanced at his wife and she was… she was completely devoid of empathy, not a shred of compassion, nothing but ice and judgment, as if I'd done wrong and should suffer. Knowing what I do of her, I figured she thought I was finally getting my comeuppance. I don't know what I'm thought to have done to her to deserve it, perhaps that's simply how she regards all Muggleborns, as deserving of punishment and derision. I don't know. But a couple of weeks later, my husband told me we were on our way to settle the debt once and for all. He apparated me with him to the couple's home…" She broke off, her cheeks going tomato in color, suddenly unable to look at him. Even without purposely utilizing his skills as a Legilimens, he could read the shame and bitterness emanating from her.

"You can tell me," he said quietly, reaching out to take one of her hands. She tensed at the touch but did not pull away.

"My husband _gave me_ to the man. Like property. It was clearly arranged in advance. I was blindsided. At first, I was speechless. Then, I adamantly refused - it was a crazy deal, not one I would ever agree to! The man grabbed my arm and said 'I'll have her back to you in an hour.' I slapped him, then I rounded on my husband, wand in hand. I came so close to hexing him senseless; you have no idea. I demanded to handle the matter in another way, in any other way, but the man laughed. He said it was too late to renege on the deal. I told him I didn't care. But Reginald begged me to do as asked, he said it was for the best, he said it was the only way. He actually cried, can you believe that? Because I wouldn't consent to fucking another man, my husband cried."

"He doesn't sound like much of a man," said Severus. "Not because he cried, but because he attempted to force you into that position in the first place."

"He was slime. They were all slime."

"Did you leave?"

"Not yet. This was when the man's wife entered the room – we were in what looked to be his study – and she glared at me again as if this were entirely my fault. Even so, I thought she would back me up.

"'Please,' I said. 'Your husband wants to take me to bed as repayment for my husband's debt. Please tell him that's ridiculous, it's immoral, it's wrong. I'll pay you back if I have to sell every possession I own and work multiple jobs for the rest of my life.'

"She ignored me. She looked through me as if I wasn't there. So I grabbed hold of her wrist and asked, 'How can you let him do this? You're his _wife_!'

"Later he told me it had been her idea, that I had made a fool of myself by seeking salvation from her, but not knowing that yet I held her hand tightly and asked her to say something, anything. She neither spoke nor pulled away. 'Tell him he's sick, the whole thing is sick,' I begged. 'Please!' She continued to regard me coldly, without expression, then turned to her husband and said… and said… she said…" Hermione couldn't finish the sentence. She burst into furious tears. She doubled over, burying her face in the pillow, unable to face him, unable to see the disgust that surely must be evident in his eyes, barely controlling the urge to lash out and punch the pillow rather than hugging it.

He moved closer, awkwardly rubbing her back in small circles, at a total loss for what else to do.

"What did she say, Hermione? His wife. What did she say?"

Hermione lifted her head. Her chest was heaving, the tears freely flowing. Teeth clenched, she struggled to catch her breath, to calm down enough to answer him.

"She said…" Hermione steeled herself, trying to concentrate on the anger rather than the hurt or the shame. "She said, 'Don't fuck her in our bedroom, Lucius. I don't want the sweaty skin of a filthy Mudblood sullying my sheets.'"


	16. Break, My Heart

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

 **Break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

"I was stunned; I didn't know what to say, or what to do. I looked at Reginald and he looked at Malfoy and they exchanged a nod and the next thing I knew I had been side-along apparated to a bedroom. Malfoy had his arms around my waist. I slapped him. He laughed."

"You're saying he raped you?" Severus' skin went hot with repressed rage. He had sat across from Lucius Malfoy hours ago with no idea… no idea what had happened to her. What the man did. He knew what the man was capable of, of course. They'd been closer than most during both wars, though Severus had always been not-so-secretly disgusted by his cohort's treatment of women, including, but not limited to, the way Lucius degraded and manhandled his own wife. But this? It was an unwelcome surprise.

"No, he didn't rape me. Not exactly. Perhaps... But no. I don't know." She puffed out a frustrated sigh. "I… I mean… I don't think of it as rape. He didn't force me. I went willingly. I had the option to... to stay or to... to go..."

"Then you could have said no? You could have left?"

"I could, but I couldn't." She squeezed her eyes shut. "You don't understand."

He looked her over with concern. "Help me understand."

-0-0-0-

 **FLASHBACK**

 **May 4** **th** **, 2006**

"Would you like to leave, Mrs. Park?" Lucius released his hold on Hermione's waist, strode to the door, and opened it, not at all bothered by the pink handprint on his cheek. "I'm not in the practice of taking women against their will. That ended with the war... though I've long regretted that we were unable to get to know each other better then."

He looked her up and down, which made her face turned as burgundy as the floor-length drapes framing the long, thin windows.

"Of course I'd like to leave, Mr. Malfoy," she said, relieved. "I'll figure out another way to get you the money my husband owes and we shall never again speak of this."

"No," said Lucius when she was halfway toward the door. He kicked it shut. "No, you misunderstand. You may go, but I don't want the scrounged-up pocket money of a couple of pathetic Muggle-borns with hungry children at home. That won't… _satisfy_ me."

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I've waited eight months for my payoff, Mrs. Park. Or may I call you Hermione?"

"Mrs. Park is fine."

"Very well, Hermione. As you are no doubt aware, given your position within the Ministry, betting on professional Quidditch matches is illegal, and as of the last few years, that law is heavily enforced. Your husband could be facing time in Azkaban."

"But not you?" She tried to give him the same haughty, disdainful look she'd given the Gringotts goblin while under Polyjuice nearly a decade before, and it was hardly more effective now. "You're the one he lost money to. Wouldn't you face the same sentence?"

"Silly, ignorant, naive girl. I managed to avoid a single day in Azkaban after both the first war and the second despite this Mark on my arm." He yanked up his sleeve to reveal it to her, significantly faded, but ever-present. "I have considerable pull around the Ministry and in the wizarding world, especially now that the tides seem to be again turning in our favor, as purebloods and halfs alike are increasingly worried about the rise of Muggleborn witches and wizards overwhelming Hogwarts' admissions log. Do you really think a little technicality like this would put me away, given mybstatus, my money, my current position in the Ministry? You, on the other hand, could almost certainly see some time behind bars - so to speak."

She scrunched up her brow, perplexed. "Me?! How do you figure?"

"Your husband bet against Bulgaria, figuring Krum would fail to get the Snitch. And Krum did fail to get the Snitch. But they won anyway. Highly unexpected. Disappointing, in a sense, as this was likely Krum' final Quidditch World Cup. I imagine he would have preferred they'd won because of him, not in spite of him."

"Reginald bet against Bulgaria, that's how he lost money to you?"

"He lost money to more than one person, Hermione, and I was not among them."

"Then why do we owe you?"

"Because I, quite helpfully, saved him two broken legs by buying off the entirety of his debt months ago. You're welcome."

"I see no reason to thank you for that," she said honestly, not altogether unhappy to picture her sick, conniving husband with two broken legs.

"Viktor Krum is retiring soon, Hermione." Lucius twirled his walking stick, his chest puffed out arrogantly. "Or hadn't you heard? End of this season. Being old friends with him, I assumed you knew that already. The Ministry will believe as much, in any case."

"I… we… I don't understand."

Lucius laughed and leaned back against the door, folding his arms over his chest, the snake head still in one hand.

"There are some wizards, Hermione…"

"Stop calling me Hermione."

"Excuse me, Mrs. Park. There are some wizards, Mrs. Park, who think Krum purposely failed to get the snitch. Once his career ends – and it _is_ ending – the money will dry up. Some believe he was paid to throw the match. But as I said, they won anyway… thus everyone is unhappy. You see?"

"No."

"It was odd of your husband to bet that Krum would not get the snitch. He bet both that they would lose and that Krum would fail to get the snitch. But why? Krum always gets the snitch. In his last forty-two consecutive games, he's gotten the snitch. He hasn't always brought Bulgaria to victory, but he's always captured the snitch."

"I don't know much about Quidditch, to be honest, Mr. Malfoy."

"Please, it's Lucius."

"Mr. Malfoy."

He sneered. "Why would your husband have bet so much money he didn't have on the impossible? He must have had an inside man. A connection to Krum. How could he be connected to Krum? Who does he know who knows Krum?"

"You think _I_ had something to do with this?" she asked incredulously, pointing at herself. Lucius laughed.

"Honestly? No. But the Ministry might. And what a scandal. What a disgrace. You might avoid jail time, Miss Granger, but I doubt the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will think enough of you to keep you on staff. Of course, if they _do_ wish to make an example of you both, find you a double cell in Azkaban perhaps, that would be most unfortunate. Tell me, to whom do you intend to leave your children? I believe the Muggle orphanage in which the Dark Lord once lived is still in operation."

"It is not."

"Oh. Pity." He uncrossed his arms, set his cane on the table by the door, and strode toward her with confidence. He placed one hand at the small of her back and pulled her close, so their chests and pelvises were touching. "I have to be candid with you, Miss Granger."

"Mrs. Park."

"Miss Granger. Hermione. I'm looking forward to our upcoming… interaction." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She shuddered but did not pull away. He took this as permission to stroke her cheek, his other hand ghosting down over her arse. "As previously indicated, I've wanted this for a long time. I think you've had it coming to you for a long time. You may have helped defeat the Dark Lord, little girl, but Mudbloods will never, never be our equals. I look forward to delivering to you this reminder."

"There has to be another way," said Hermione, suddenly pushing her palms against his chest, attempting to extricate herself from his unwanted embrace.

"There is no other way."

"This is improper!" She pushed him again, harder this time, and he actually stumbled back a step when he released her. He smirked, amused. "I cannot believe you even suggested it, Malfoy."

"I didn't. Narcissa did. But it was cute, watching you beg her to forbid me from following through. Quite a turn on, really."

Hermione's fists shook with fury as she contemplated pulling her wand on him, having had enough of this talk. "I cannot believe that _your wife_ suggested it, nor can I believe that my husband agreed!"

"Don't be shocked, Hermione. You're not a little girl anymore. This is the way of the world."

"It's not _my_ way!"

"Then go." Again he moved to open the door, gesturing out toward the hall. "Let the Wizengamot sort it out. Perhaps Weasley and his new girlfriend will offer to raise your children until your sentence is up. It'll probably only be a decade or so. With good behavior, you'll be out in time to see your daughter leave for Hogwarts."

She glanced toward the hall, then back at him. "Or?"

"Or you can remain here. With me. You'll do as I request – don't worry, I won't leave marks, hit, maim, or choke you, or any of that rubbish. I'll be more respectful than is deserving of your kind – and when you depart your debt will be fully paid and we'll never speak of this again. It shall be quick and painless, Miss Granger. Hermione. I promise. But I'll not force you. It is entirely your _choice_."

"Mrs. Park," she said softly, but already she was imagining herself legally dropping both that name and the title. Could she really do this? Should she? Should she walk away, or should she stay?

She could certainly opt to face the Wizengamot, risk losing her job... but her children? She could not risk losing her children.

Quick and painless, he promised. Quick and painless. She could handle quick and painless.

No.

No, she couldn't!

She had her dignity to consider, her sense of morality, her entire sense of self-worth.

But then again... she also had a duty to her children... nothing and no one meant more to her than her children... Could she really risk losing them, losing her job and reputation, potentially going to Azkaban, just to spare herself a few minutes degradation?

The back and forth in her brain was making her dizzy. She could not believe she was in this situation, that she was even considering... during the war, she would never have consented to using her body in a sexual way like this for any reason, not least of all at the hands of a Death Eater, a Malfoy.

But she was younger then. In a sense, she had less to lose. Her parents were safe and her friends were by her side. Besides...

Hadn't some people done worse during the war? Hadn't some people had to suffer for the greater good? Severus Snape certainly had. And Alastor Moody. And Lily Potter. The Longbottoms. Nymphadora Tonks. Dumbledore. So many had suffered because there was no other way.

Damn it.

Damn that Reginald Park.

Damn Narcissa Malfoy, damn Lucius Malfoy, damn her department's quest to quell Quidditch-related gambling, and damn the entire fucking wizarding world.

"Mrs. Park?" Lucius interrupted her ongoing inner conflict. "You could say no. You could choose to walk out this door and take your chances with the Ministry, with the Wizengamot. Risk Azkaban. Risk losing your children. It's entirely up to you. Or... we could settle this debt - and allay your fears of any future scandal or charges - right now."

She bit her lip. She unclenched her fists. She faced him, looked straight into those timberwolf gray eyes, and steeled herself.

There really was only one choice.

She had to think of her children.

During the war, she didn't have children.

Being a mother changed everything.

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy. I'll consent."

He grinned, but she didn't let him bask in the triumph for too long.

"First, make the Unbreakable Vow."

"Excuse me?" He lowered his wand, which he'd been about to use to lock the bedroom door.

"The Unbreakable Vow. How can I trust you won't continue to blackmail us? How can I be assured you won't change your mind in a week and turn us in anyway? How can I be certain you won't demand my… my time… and my body… again in the future, backed by this same threat? Make the Unbreakable Vow. Promise that if I do this, you'll not be able to report me or my husband to the Ministry for the gambling, and also that you won't ask for additional payment in the form of… in any form, physical or monetary."

"You can trust me. I am a man of honor."

"I don't care for your honor, sir," she said, glaring at him like the trash he considered her to be. "Make the Unbreakable Vow."

He sneered, clearly unhappy about this, but ultimately willing to oblige. "Very well. Who shall preside over it?"

"Is my husband still here?"

"No. It was understood that he would exit the grounds and disapparate the moment you and I disappeared from the study."

"Who else is present, then?"

"My son, my niece, and my wife."

"Your wife, then." Hermione couldn't handle the shame of having him request Draco's involvement. "If this was Narcissa's idea, surely she shouldn't mind presiding over the Vow."

Lucius' grey eyes narrowed into slits no wider than those of the long-dead snake, Nagini. But he nodded, snapped his fingers, and sent a house elf to summon his wife.

Narcissa did not question what was being asked of her. She merely held her wand and nonverbally made the incantation that caused two streams of colored light to emit from her wand, encircling their clasped hands while they kneeled, just as her sister had done a decade before when Narcissa begged the same from Severus Snape.

She did not look at Hermione while she was in the room, not once.

Nor did she make eye contact with her husband.

Immediately upon its completion, Narcissa slipped her wand up her sleeve, informed Lucius that she was taking Delphini out for dinner, and left.

"Are you satisfied, Miss Granger?" he asked, offering her a hand up from the floor. She pushed it away and rose without assistance.

"As much as I'm going to be," she replied.

"Oh, no," he said, the sly, intimidating smile returning to his lips. "You're going to be considerably more satisfied, perhaps even twice, before I'm through with you."

He insisted upon removing her clothing himself. She wore a Muggle blouse and peasant skirt under her witch's robes. He took his time, especially when unclasping her bra and slipping her knickers slowly, carefully down her legs. Then he undressed himself and lowered her to the bed.

He started by kissing her.

He kissed her all over.

He explored her intimately with his tongue, which made her gasp and moan, and, eventually, though she didn't want to, it brought her to orgasm. This caused tears of fury to well up in her eyes, as she silently cursed her body's betrayal, but she refused to cry.

He fucked her in multiple positions. He was obviously an experienced lover, adept, and in tune with the workings of the female body, which only made it worse. Why couldn't he be like Ron? Limited foreplay, no talking, a few thrusts, and it's done? For the first time since their divorce, she missed his selfish style.

He bit her on the back of her shoulder, causing her to cry out. She then bit down on her wrist to avoid making any other noises, as even her whimpers seemed to spur him on, when all she wanted was for him to finish so it could be over.

Throughout the encounter, he whispered dirty things in harsh tones in her ear.

"You like it, don't you?"

"Tell me you like it, Mudblood."

"Tell me you like it, filthy Mudblood."

She refused to say she liked it. She refused to say she didn't. She figured either would only serve as reinforcement, thus she would not dignify his questions by giving any response at all.

When he was spent he rolled off her, chest heaving, that satisfied smirk back on his face. He smacked her hard on the back of her thigh, creating a red welt. Aside from the bruise forming from his bite, it was the only mark he left. "Consider your debt repaid, Mrs. Park. Miss Granger. Hermione."

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy."

"I told you, call me Lucius."

"I'd rather not."

"Suit yourself." He stood, went into the adjoining loo, wrapped a towel around his waist, and returned to throw a second towel at her. "Clean yourself up, Mudblood."

He let the door slam behind him.

Once dressed, she hurried outside to the apparition point beyond the gates, praying she wouldn't run into Draco (or Narcissa) in the halls.

She returned home to her husband that night and, rather than going to work the next morning, said she needed to stay home with the children. She was feeling ill, she explained.

Reginald did not question this. Resembling a dog with its tail between its legs, he ducked his head and departed for the Ministry alone.

While he was gone, she packed up their meager possessions (save for the furniture) and left.

They stayed above the Leaky Cauldron for seven months, thanks to the charity of new owner Hannah Abbott, while saving up to rent a flat. Hermione filed for divorce as soon as she was able to get the paperwork drawn up. When Reginald came to beg forgiveness she refused to hear him out. She refused to even let him in.

"Just sign on the dotted line," she said.

And with that, her second marriage was over.

-0-0-0-

 **THE PRESENT**

" _Malfoy_ did that to you? Lucius Malfoy? That bloody bastard. I should have cursed him into oblivion this afternoon."

"What good would that have done?" asked Hermione, finally resuming eye contact with Severus. "I agreed to it. It seemed like the best way, the only way, to pay off the debt and protect my career and my children. Originally my intention was to remain at the Ministry afterward, but it became too difficult."

"Because he was still hitting on you?"

"Because I was _pregnant."_ Her voice broke on the word, and with it, broke his heart. "I didn't want Malfoy to know. I didn't want Reginald to know. I didn't want anyone to know."

"Were you pregnant… when it happened? You were already pregnant?" Severus looked to her expectantly, hopeful even, for the alternative was worse.

"No," she whispered. "Haven't you looked at Hero? Really _looked_ at her? She has light hair. Not much of it. But she's going to be blonde."

"Henry is blond," said Severus slowly. "Blond-ish."

"Her eyes are grey. Do you know how rare _grey_ eyes are? Reginald's were brown. Mine are brown. Helena's and Henry's are brown. My parents both have brown. I only know two people with grey eyes, Severus. One is Draco Malfoy…"

Severus concluded: "And the other is his father."

"Yes. Draco's father, and Hero's father. My daughter is Draco Malfoy's half-sister."

"I had no idea."

"Neither does Lucius. Or anyone else. And I intend to keep it that way. By leaving the Ministry, by birthing to her at home, by giving her my last name, by being careful about where we go and who sees her, I think I've managed to keep him from finding out she exists, or, at the very least, from suspecting she's his, but it's only a matter of time…"

"Why didn't you take the potion?" interjected Severus in an unintentionally accusatory tone.

Hermione bristled at the question.

"Potions aren't free, Professor. We could barely afford food. Besides, the most common and accessible potion available at the time had to be taken in advance, and I had no warning. There are after-potions once can get from St. Mungos, but that would involve seeing a Mediwitch, and since I was still breastfeeding Henry, I didn't think… I thought it wouldn't be a problem."

"I…" He paused, wishing he knew what to say, or what to do. "I don't know how I can help you."

"You can't, really," she whispered, hugging the pillow more tightly to her chest, as two fat tears dripped off her chin and onto the fabric. "Except, perhaps, by being my friend. If you... if you think we can still be friends?"

"I told you nothing you've done would change how I feel about you, and I meant it."

"You respect me, even now? Despite what I did?"

"What you did? You hadn't a... It wasn't... Even if... Even if it had been..." He shook his head, collecting his thoughts. "It was an act of self-preservation, of protection. How could I judge you for that without being a complete hypocrite? How could I lose respect for you?"

"For over two years, I've felt like the whore he says I am."

"But you're not." Severus reached across the couch for her, pulling her to him, so her head was resting against his chest with his arms around her. This wasn't comfortable for him, but when she sighed, closed her eyes, and let the tears quietly flow, he knew this was the right thing. "You're not a whore."

"I sort of was."

"He didn't give you a choice. Not really."

"Yes, he did. He gave me a choice. I could have taken my chances with work, with the Wizengamot, but I chose to give myself to him to repay the debt instead. And then I nearly whored myself out again, two months ago. I would have... if you had... I would have... As you're abundantly aware, I needed money. I would have done almost anything."

"But you didn't."

"Because you didn't ask it of me."

"You're not a whore."

"I traded sex for money, essentially, and was willing to do it again." She snuggled against him, wrapping one arm around his waist. "What would _you_ call me?"

"A desperate mother." He kissed the top of her head. "No, a determined mother. Determined to do what was best for your children."

"It destroyed my sense of self-worth," she admitted, unable to look at him. "I always thought of myself as intelligent, practical, rule-abiding, strong, a good person."

"You're still a good person. You're still all of those things."

"Sometimes when I look back, I can't believe that woman in bed with Malfoy was me. If not for Hero, my constant reminder, it could almost be a dream. But at the same time, when I look back at myself during the war, that doesn't feel like me either. Sometimes I can't remember who I was, and what's worse, I don't know who I am."

"You're Hermione Granger," he said. He placed another kiss atop her head. "You're the brightest witch of your age."

This, at least, made her smile. But after a moment she propped herself up to stare into his dark eyes and asked in a panic, "You won't say anything, will you? About what happened, or about Hero? You won't say anything to Malfoy, or to... anyone else?"

"You can trust me," he assured her, even though he wanted nothing more than to confront Lucius... to curse him... to make him suffer as she'd suffered. "I won't say a word, not to anyone."

"Thank you," she whispered. She hugged him, for the first time in two years wondering if perhaps she was wrong to have placed so much of the blame on herself. Maybe she wasn't a whore. Maybe she didn't have a choice. She was a desperate mother. A determined mother. She did what she had to.

And now he knew.

And he still respected her.

Or so he claimed.

They remained in those positions for some time without talking, her safe in his arms, him breathing in the sweet coconut scent of her hair, until eventually both dozed off. When they awoke, it was well after midnight and his entire body was on edge with pain. He had to go.

He kissed her goodbye. She welcomed his tongue briefly into her mouth, brushing her fingers gently against his cheek as his hands went to her waist, both aware that they were becoming more than friends, knowing 'there may be something there that wasn't there before,' though neither would say it aloud. Not yet.

When he got home, he chased the pain potion with another shot of whiskey and went to bed, but he could not sleep, could not stop picturing her with with the despicable former Death Eater, and could not stop picturing himself making Lucius Malfoy pay for what he'd done.

She, on the other hand, felt like the proverbial weight had been lifted from her shoulders, as simply sharing her secret had helped to reduce the burden of carrying it around. She climbed into bed between the children, who immediately cuddled up to her sides, and slept better than she had in years.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Sorry for the typos - I hope they've been fixed now. I saved my final edits in the ffnet app and it seems they didn't carry over when I uploaded the update. If you see any I missed feel free to let me know.

I couldn't help putting in a little bit of Beauty the Beast into these last two chapters. I saw the new one with Emma Watson twice and even though she's not the strongest singer, I _loved_ it. Hermione's kids were watching the Disney original, though, obviously.

That aside, now that you know (most of) the reason Hermione has such bitter, angry feelings directed toward the Malfoys, what do you think? There is still a bit of mystery... for one thing, some of what Lucius told her is a lie, so there's that, plus she has yet to learn how and why her ex-husband died, or why Narcissa keeps writing to Severus, or what's going on with Delphini... but this was a big part of it. The next three chapters, which all flow into each other, are pretty much my favorites thus far, so I'm excited to share! Chapter 17 will be posted in a couple of days.

Sorry I didn't end up doing individual review responses at the end of Chapter 15. Honestly there were just so many and I was afraid to miss anyone, which is a happy 'problem' to have, but if you'd like me to reply in a PM let me know. I love your questions and theories!

Thanks, as always, for reading, reviewing, following, and adding to favorites!

 **-AL**


	17. To Speak of Horrors

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

 **To speak of horrors…"**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

On Monday, they put away groceries, cooked meals for the week, reorganized the kitchen, and chatted - but not about Lucius, Saturday night, or any of what she'd confessed to him. He felt if she wanted to discuss it further, she should bring it up first, whereas she felt she'd said all she needed to and therefore did not wish to talk about it again.

As they had the Friday before, about half an hour before the end of her shift, they found themselves on the couch, snogging. She was on her back again with him positioned over her, attached at the mouth, shamelessly grinding against each other like sixth years in the astronomy tower at risk of being caught by their Head of House. He had avoided taking a full dosage of pain potion, wanting to feel, but did down two double shots of Ogden's Firewhiskey in quick succession to take the edge off.

"Yes," she moaned as he massaged her breast, his hand over her bra but under her shirt. "Yes… this is… oh… yes…"

"Beautiful," he murmured into her hair, wondering if she would consent to letting his hands wander... lower. "You're beautiful."

"Two weeks from today, Eloise goes back to Hogwarts," said Hermione, arching her back as his lips moved to her chest. "I won't have a sitter. What am I going to do?"

"Let's worry about it when I can think clearly." He ran his tongue along the pale pink fabric of her bra, delving under it, as he pushed her shirt off over her head.

She guided his lips back up to hers, kissing him soundly, sliding her hands under the fabric of his shirt then pulling it off as he had hers.

She moaned as his hands snaked around to the clasp of her bra, but she stopped him from unhooking it, reminding him they'd made the mutual decision to slow down. He complied, choosing instead to suck at her neck, unable to stop himself from rubbing against her.

Despite her continued fantasies about him, it was still somewhat difficult for her to reconcile the man on top of her with the memory of the sardonic, borderline cruel professor she'd once had. This attraction to him - and his attraction to her - felt almost... surreal. She moaned again, distracted from her thoughts, when she felt the evidence of his arousal against her inner thigh, thrusting herself up toward him.

"It's been a long time," she said.

"Longer for me," he replied.

"How long?"

"Long enough that I don't want to tell you how long." He fingered the lacy trim of her bra before burying his face between her breasts. He then left a trail of kisses down her upper body to her navel. She entwined her fingers into his hair, keeping him from going much lower.

"There are things we need to discuss before... that can happen," she said as he kissed below her belly button.

"Before what?" he asked, sliding his hands up the backs of her thighs, distracted. "What things?"

"Before we go further, you have to answer a few questions."

"What sort of questions?" He attempted to unbutton her jeans but she moved his hands back to her hips.

"Like, how many women have you been with? Who was most recent? Have you been with anyone I know? Have you ever gotten a woman pregnant, or had a pregnancy scare?" She gasped, and the questions tumbled out more quickly. "Oh! Have you ever contracted a social disease? What are your thoughts on contraception? On abortion? On premarital sex? On casual sex? On monogamy? Do you have any disturbing fetishes I should be forewarned about? Do you have any little Snapes running around somewhere? Oh! Oh, wait - you're not a virgin, are you?"

"I…" He propped himself up on his elbows, resting his chin on her abdomen, looking up at her with his eyebrows pulled to the center. "No, I am not a virgin and I will pretend not to be insulted by the fact that you asked. Do I have to answer all the rest?"

"No. Not now, anyway. But if you want… if, in the future, we want to… you know… if we intend to…"

"To have sex…"

"Right. If we're going to do that, then I think we should have this discussion first."

"Very well." He kissed her hip. "For now, I'll answer three yes-or-no questions. No more, no details. Go ahead. Ask away."

"Do you always have to be in control, Professor?"

"Is that your first question, Ms. Granger?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. First… have you ever been married?"

"No." He traced the heart-shaped rose-colored birthmark on her ribcage with his tongue. Her fingernails scratched lightly, pleasantly, at the back of his neck.

"Engaged?"

"No."

"In a relationship?"

"Yes."

"How many?"

"I… what?"

"How many relationships?"

He lightly pressed his lips her birthmark before moving back up to her chest. "I've already responded to three questions, and besides, that last one could not be answered with yes or no." His hands made their way to her arse as he kissed her collarbone, desiring her, selfishly wishing she'd talk less and mess around more.

"How about three more? Have you slept with anyone I know? Have you gotten a woman pregnant? Have you ever had your heart broken? I mean, not by Lily, but by a woman you were... with whom you were in a relationship?"

"I have already answered three questions," he repeated with finality. "Now it's my turn. Have you ever been married?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"Engaged?"

"Ob-viously." She mimicked his usual dry tone. He smirked.

"Yes or no responses only, Ms. Granger. Engaged?"

"Yes. And yes, I've been in a relationship."

"That wasn't my third question."

"Then what was?"

"Ever go to bed with a woman?"

"What?" She pulled herself into a seated position. "What did you say?"

He laughed as he, too, sat up, drawing her into his lap. "Well? Have you?"

"Severus Snape, _what kind of question_ is that?"

"One that could give me new fodder for my depraved fantasies, depending upon your answer." He grinned unapologetically, as teasing her greatly amused him - especially when it made her cheeks go pink, a blush that continued down her neck to her chest.

"You're perverse," she said, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and placed a kiss below his ear, showing she wasn't too offended.

For the last ten minutes before she had to return home, she remained in his lap (the new pain potion combined with the liquor seemed to be working) and they exchanged ridiculous, untrue answers to increasingly sordid, borderline-salacious personal questions… but he didn't tell her how many women he'd been with, if he'd ever gotten one pregnant, or whether he'd slept with anyone she happened to know.

-0-0-0-

 **Spinner's End**

 **Monday**

 **5:14 PM**

Shortly after Hermione had gone, Severus stretched and headed for the stairs, intending to take a shower before the pain potion wore off, but a sharp knock on the door stopped him. He pulled his shirt back on both wondering whether Hermione had forgotten something and hoping it wasn't Lucius returning (though if it was, he might break his promise to Hermione to avoid confrontation with the man).

However, much to his surprise, neither Hermione nor Lucius were on his doorstep.

It was Narcissa.

Looking livid.

"You stupid, selfish, motherfucking dunderhead prick." She tossed her grey-blonde hair, which, today, fell loose and straight over her shoulders. "Let me in."

"Lovely to see you, too," he said sarcastically, stepping aside to grant her entrance. She breezed past him and headed straight for the liquor in his sitting room. By time he closed the door and entered the room, she was already pouring wine into a glass.

"Please, have a drink," said Severus. "No need to wait for me to offer."

She flipped him off.

"What brings you most unexpectedly to my humble home, Mrs. Malfoy? Need me to make the Unbreakable Vow for you again? What's Draco up to now?"

"Shut it. Do you have any idea what your little outburst the other day meant for _me_ , Severus?" She downed half the wine in two long sips. "Did you even _consider_ me, or were you too concerned with preserving the undeserved _honor_ of your Mudblood slag?"

"Don't call her that."

"What? Slag? My apologies. Perhaps I seem bitter; I'm simply still a bit bothered by the fact that my husband fucked your filthy Mudblood girlfriend and…"

"I mean it, Narcissa. Don't use that word to describe her."

"Excuse me, your filthy Mudblood _employee_ …"

"I meant Mudblood and you damn well know it," he growled, advancing on her in a way that would intimidate most denizens of the wizarding world, but she neither backed away nor flinched. "Do not use that word in my home, or in my presence, ever."

"Fuck off." She refilled her glass, even though it wasn't empty. "I can hardly walk and you're arguing semantics?"

"What do you mean you can hardly walk?"

"You told my husband we slept together! What did you think would happen?" She stalked toward the couch, set her glass down on the end table, and withdrew her wand from the sleeve of her long, uncharacteristically plain but form-fitting gray witch's robe, worn over an ornate burgundy dress. She tapped the crown of her head and muttered, "Finite Incantatum."

The Glamour she'd previously applied dissipated and now Severus could see that she had a bruised cheek, the purpling of which continued up around her left eye, and a jagged red cut above her brow, plus a swollen lip.

"He hit you?" Much of Severus' fury drained from his body as he took hold of her upper arms, looking her over closely.

"How else would you expect him to handle me when angry?" She shoved Severus away, picked up the wine glass, and gulped down what was left.

"I didn't know he would hit you!"

"Let me show you, Severus. Let me show you all of my bruises."

"I can see them."

"No, you think you can, dear, but you're mistaken," she said in the tone of a teacher scolding a naughty child. She reached out to hand him the empty glass. "Allow me to enlighten you." She removed her robe, tossing it onto the couch, then began to unbutton the front of her dress. "See, here?" She pulled it open so he could see the swelled up purple-speckled red marks across her upper chest. "If you look closely, especially at the matching ones on my back, you can just make out the imprint of the scales from his dragon-skin boots."

"He kicked you, too?"

"There's more." She slithered out of the dress and tossed it with her robe on the couch, entirely comfortable being seen by him in nothing but a sheer slip, as he'd seen her in far less multiple times before.

"Narcissa," he said, holding out a hand.

"What's wrong, Severus? You don't care to see the extent of what he did to me? You don't want to know how _thoroughly_ he punished me for having been with you? You don't wish to face the realities of what your loose lips on Saturday meant for _me_? Look, here." She lifted her slip to reveal even more extensive bruising on her inner thigh. "Know how it feels? It fucking hurts. _Everything_ hurts. You should know what that's like. Haven't you been in constant full-body pain for years? Did you do this to me so someone else would know how you feel?"

"I…" His eyebrows furrowed. "Of course not. How long as Lucius been beating you?"

"How long have we been married?" She grabbed her glass and returned to the liquor cabinet to pour more wine. She had only been there a few minutes and was already well on her way to getting pissed.

"You never told me, Narcissa."

"I've never told anyone. My son knows, of course, as does my niece, and my sister caught him hitting me once, but I've never _told_ a soul. I'm telling you now only because I'd appreciate it if you'd refrain from giving him more ammunition against me. In case it comes up again, which is shouldn't, I convinced him we only slept together once, when he was in Azkaban and I was desperate to keep Draco safe." She settled on the couch and crossed one leg over the other, leaning back against her dress and robe. There were bruises on her wrists and upper arms, too, and one on the side of her knee. "Specifically, Severus, I told him you required sex in exchange for having made the Vow with me."

"And he believed you?"

"Am I not still alive?"

"Narcissa..." Severus moved to sit beside her, feeling sick to his stomach, unable to get the mental image of his own beaten, broken mother out of his head, and additionally sickened by learning she'd told her husband he'd coerced her into sex. "You and I have known each other for thirty years. We were friends. All that time we spent together when he was in Azkaban you said nothing. Why? You could have told me."

"It's not always this bad. Sometimes _months_ will pass and he won't so much as raise his voice to me. When he does get angry, he typically avoids leaving marks people will see, doesn't choke me or hit me in the face…" She brought her hand up to gingerly touch her cheek. "Most of the time. And when he does, I simply avoid going out unless absolutely necessary and use a Glamour if I have to – but my arms, my thighs… haven't you ever wondered why I wear floor-length, long-sleeved robes even in the middle of summer? It's not because I love bloody sweating to death. If I'm overdressed it's likely because I'm black and blue and trying to hide it. Oh, Severus." Smiling as if she felt sorry for him, she placed two fingers under his chin and closed his gaping mouth. "You've known him a long time, dear. Does it really surprise you to learn he's a violent man behind closed doors?"

"I didn't know he beat you," answered Severus softly. He'd seen Lucius yank her by the arm and, once, pull her hair, but this went beyond what he'd assumed she'd had to endure to be the trophy wife of the UK's wealthiest wizard.

"Only three times in thirty-seven years have I had to seek help from a Healer." Narcissa ran her fingertip around the edge of her wine glass until it whistled. "That's about once every twelve years, most recently just over two years ago. But if you tell him the truth, if he realizes we had an affair, he'll fucking kill me. For fuck's sake, Severus, he once broke two of my fingers simply because he caught me _looking_ at another man at a Ministry soiree. He might have done worse but I was expecting Draco at the time, and besides, we were in public."

"I knew he had a temper and little regard for the autonomy of women in general, but I never suspected – _never_ – that it was this bad." Though he was concerned about Narcissa, he couldn't help thinking of Hermione now, wondering if she was safe at home. She didn't properly ward her flat even though she was perfectly capable of doing so. He needed to pay her a visit as soon as Narcissa went home.

Home.

"Are you going home to him?" asked Severus. "You shouldn't. You should leave."

"Leave, sure." She rolled her eyes. "How, exactly? He's the father of my only son."

"Draco is grown. He has his own family. You should leave. If not for yourself, for your niece."

Her blue eyes flashed. "Don't you fucking speak of her. Not when you've been ignoring my owls for months."

"You need to leave him," reiterated Severus. "What if he gets so angry one of these times he kills you, like you said? Or what if he drives you to kill yourself?" Now he was thinking of his mother again, of course. She attempted suicide no less than four times during his childhood, but it wasn't until after his father died that she finally did it. According to the note she left behind, after so many decades of listening to her husband tell her she was nothing, she believed it, and once he was gone she realized she felt like she had nothing left to live for. It had crushed Severus at the time, as he blamed himself. Perhaps if he'd been a more loving son, written more often, visited during Hogwarts breaks… but no, he pulled away, bitter and angry with her for his rotten childhood.

"Lucius controls the money, Severus." Narcissa sipped her wine, slowing down a little now that it was going to her head. "Even what I inherited from my parents; it all went into our shared vault and I have no access to it without his signature. At best, I may be able to access what's left in Bella's vault, though it's expressly earmarked for Delphini's care and education..." Her eyes flashed again at her niece's name. "Even then… he has all the power. He is a powerful man, as you well know."

"Still. You deserve better."

"No, I deserve what I've got. I married him and I'll remain married to him, no matter how difficult it is at times – I'm merely asking you not to make it _more_ difficult!" She finished the glass and summoned over the bottle. "You know, it's rather rude to make your guest drink alone." She poured herself another glass and handed him the bottle. He took a quick swig then placed it on the end table. He stood and went to the shelf where he kept his pain potion. Beside it was a tub of Essence of Dittany and on the shelf above was a salve to decrease bruising. He brought all three over to the couch.

"Take a sip of this." He handed her the pain potion. "Only a sip. A full dosage will make you numb and I only want to prevent pain when I touch you."

"Ooh," she said, twitching up an eyebrow suggestively. "You intend to touch me? Whatever will your darling Mud… Excuse me. Whatever will your _employee_ say?"

"Stop it." He sat on the table opposite the couch and parted her legs as she took a swig from the vial. He took a large glop of the salve and massaged it into the bruising on her inner thigh, then did the same to her arms, chest, and back. Next he gently applied a thin layer to her face before using the Essence of Dittany on the cut above her brow.

"To prevent scarring," he explained.

"Thank you," she said. Once the salve had dried on her body she put her dress back on, but didn't bother with the robe. Her fingers trembled as she tried to button the dress, so much so that she was having difficulty getting each button through its hole. "This happens sometimes when I drink," she confessed. She added a little white lie: "That's why I don't do it often."

"Since you're here…" said Severus. He took over the buttoning, surprising himself with how comfortable he was with her, even after all these years. "We can talk."

"We can talk about my letters?" she asked hopefully.

"No." He finished the last two buttons. "We can talk about my employee. She told me what happened with Lucius."

"Oh. That." Narcissa sighed deeply and reached for the wine bottle, as her glass was empty again, but Severus held it out of reach. "What do you want to know?"

"You hurt her."

Narcissa laughed. "I _hurt_ her? She _fucked_ my _husband,_ in my _home,_ and she made _me_ preside over their Unbreakable Vow first. But _I_ hurt _her_? That's absolutely asinine. If anything, _she_ hurt _me_!"

"She told me what you said. She said she looked to you for help. She was terrified and desperate. You responded by calling her a filthy Mudblood."

She glared at him, her blue eyes narrowing. "And what was I supposed to have done? Come to her aid? Offered up myself instead? Begged him not to do to her what he's done to me countless times since we were married thirty-four years ago?"

"You could have…"

"I could have _nothing_. To be honest, Severus, I didn't _want_ to do anything. I'd much rather he fuck her than beat me. But thanks in part to you, he's done both."

"You didn't have to throw yourself on a bloody sword for her, Narcissa," he snapped, "But how could you _suggest_ it?"

She seemed genuinely taken aback. "Suggest what?"

"That he take her to bed to relieve her husband's debt."

"What? I didn't _suggest_ that! Is that what she told you? That lying little bitch!" She jumped up and glared down at him, one hand on her hip. " _I_ didn't suggest it! You think I _liked_ knowing my husband was fucking some Muggleborn _child_ in our guest room? Merlin, Severus, she's the same age as our _son_! Draco used to have a _crush_ on her. How do you think _he'd_ feel knowing his _father_ took her to bed? And speaking of children, Delphini's room is only _two doors down_ from that guest room. What if she _heard_? What if she _figured out_ what was going on? She was nine years old at the time. _Nine_! I didn't want – _that_ – going on in our home right down the hall from the girl! I won't pretend to be happy about having to play Mum for my dead sister's daughter, but I'm determined to raise her right. Do you think I wanted to risk her finding out her uncle, the closest thing to a father she has, _no thanks to you,_ was off fucking a twenty-something right down the hall? The whole bloody thing is _sick_ , Severus. How could you possibly think _I_ suggested it? You've known me for thirty years." Again she reached for the bottle. This time he let her take it. "I'm not the nicest person, or the most empathetic, but I'm not a fucking monster." She plopped back down on the couch beside him, eyes brimming with furious tears.

Severus felt a twinge of guilt. He had, indeed, known her for three decades, and though he wouldn't have called her a monster, he hadn't even questioned it when Hermione said it had been Narcissa's idea. "He _told her_ it was your suggestion."

"This may shock you, Severus, but sometimes, he lies. Feel free to share that unbelievable scoop with your Muggleborn slag." She wiped her unbruised eye with the back of her hand, unwilling to let herself cry in front of him. "While you're at it, you might mention that until this conversation, I was under the impression that _she_ suggested it - she and her scum-of-the-earth husband. They couldn't repay their debt so they offered up _her_ , knowing Lucius couldn't resist a young piece of-."

"Don't call her that," he interrupted.

"I didn't! I said 'Muggleborn,' not 'Mudblood.'"

"Don't call her a slag, Narcissa. She's my employee and a friend and despite the situation your husband forced her into - one that was absolutely _not_ her idea - she's not a whore."

"I didn't call her a whore, Severus. I called her a-"

"I know what you called her. Don't say it again."

"Half my body is covered in bruises and you're arguing semantics."

"I'm sorry for that," he said genuinely. "I was angry, he'd goaded me, and the words slipped out. I regret it."

"As do I," said Narcissa. "I regret a lot of things." She looked at him pointedly.

"You regret me?"

She took a sip directly from the bottle. Upon lowering it, she repeated, "I regret a lot of things."

"I'm trying to move on with my life," he said. "To have a life. To live again. I'm sorry-"

"Don't," she interjected. "You'll only make it worse."

"Whatever it is you want from me..."

"You know what I want from you."

"Narcissa, I-"

"Don't." She placed her index finger to his lips. "I don't want you to hurt me. Have you told your Muggleborn about my letters?"

"Not about the content, no." He felt uncomfortable, as the fact was, he knew he would have to discuss it with Hermione at some point, if they were ever to become more than... whatever they were... and he couldn't imagine it would be a pleasant chat - he could only hope she would be understanding, and not despise him for it as he despised himself. "She currently has no reason to know."

"Because she's your... _employee_." Narcissa regarded him with incredulity.

"Yes."

"And your... friend?" Her eyes bore into him.

"Yes."

"So you're _not_ sleeping with her?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but no, I'm not." His face went blank and she knew, even without being a Legilimens, that he was utilizing Occlumency to remain expressionless. It was an act of self-preservation she was all-too familiar with, having spent the entirety of the war using it herself, primarily to protect her mind from her sister's unwelcome intrusion. "I'm not!" Severus added vehemently in response to her expression of disbelief.

"Not for lack of trying on your part, though, I'm sure." Narcissa chuckled and gently patted his arm. "Don't get sore with me, Severus. I'm not blind. I saw the way you looked at her in Diagon Alley a couple of weeks ago, the way you touched her. You like her. It's alright, you can admit it. I'm not even surprised. She's precisely your type." He scowled, lost the blank-face, which made her laugh harder. She squeezed his knee. "I don't mean that in a derogatory way, I swear. I _genuinely_ see you two together. She's a bit like your Lily, isn't she? Muggleborn, Gryffindor, brave, outspoken, a bloody war hero… What color are her eyes?"

"Brown."

"Pity."

He shook his head. "I wish you'd leave him, Narcissa, but since you won't, I don't believe we have anything more to talk about."

"What about the subject of my letters? I'm serious, Severus."

"I am serious too; I have no interest in talking about that."

"We'll have to, eventually."

"No, we won't. I refuse."

"Fine." She stood, still holding the bottle, and reached for her robe, then paused. "Before I go… since you're not sleeping with her... want to fuck around awhile?"

He shook his head again, but couldn't hold back a chuckle. "I never know quite what to make of you, Narcissa. You came here with murder in your eyes and you're leaving on that note?"

"Is that a no?"

"It's a no." He took the wine bottle from her and downed what little was left. "But thanks for the offer."

-0-0-0-

 **The Grangers' London Flat**

 **Monday**

 **5:19 PM**

Hermione stopped to get pumpkin juice on her way home. She knew Eloise wouldn't mind; she'd warned the girl she might be a few minutes later than usual.

She entered her home and was surprised to find it so… quiet. She hadn't even slipped off her trainers when Eloise, holding Hero, rushed to her.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," the girl whispered, looking scared. "He _insisted_ upon coming in. He wouldn't take no for an answer. He said he had to speak with you, it was imperative, he said. When he refused to leave, I told him he could wait for you on the couch. I don't like him though, he isn't nice. Helena offered him one of your library books to read, you know, to pass the time, and he told her he doesn't care for Mud... for Mudblood literature…" She shuddered. That slur wasn't allowed in her home. "Or M-word children. Then she cried. I moved the telly into the bedroom and the kids are watching a movie. I didn't know what else to do!"

Hermione felt sick. She thanked Eloise, assured her she wasn't in trouble for letting a stranger in (though it was against the rules) and bid her farewell. Then she stepped out of the alcove, into the sitting room.

"What do think you're doing here?" she asked the figure on the couch. He stood and faced her, a familiar smirk on his face, the snake's head walking stick in his hand.

"Good evening, Miss Granger."

She pointed her wand in his direction, not at all afraid to use it.

"You have thirty seconds to explain yourself before I hex you into oblivion, Malfoy."


	18. Words Like Daggers

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

 **Those words like daggers enter mine ears.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

"Miss Granger," said Lucius, his voice silky and low. "Lovely to see you again. What a humble little home you have here. And was that your babysitter? Sweet girl."

"You are not welcome here, Mr. Malfoy." She considered stunning him without giving the thirty seconds she'd promised, but she didn't want to have to explain it to the Ministry, should he report her. This wouldn't be covered by the terms of the Unbreakable Vow.

"Did Severus tell you I stopped by the other day?" He slinked toward her like a snake, a smarmy smile on his face. "I had a business proposition for him. For you."

"He wasn't interested and neither am I." She stepped into the kitchen to place the juice on the counter, but did not lower her wand.

"You could use the money, though, couldn't you?" Lucius ran a fingertip over the front window then rubbed his fingers together as if getting rid of dust, which made her face purple furiously. She's just washed the windows two weekends before. Her home was clean. "What does Snape pay? I'll double it."

"Get out, Malfoy." She took three bold steps toward him, wand still at the ready. He had not drawn his. It remained in his cane, held down by his side. Clearly, she did not intimidate him as much as she hoped.

"Triple."

"Get. The fuck. Out."

"You're being unreasonable, Hermione. Think it over. You liked it with me – I know you did, don't try to deny it – and you need the money. So long as Severus does not seem to have any real use for you…"

She stunned him nonverbally. The force of it knocked him back against the couch, but to her dismay he was not rendered unconscious, as he cast a last-second Protego.

"Stupify? Of all spells, Miss Granger." He chuckled. "I should have thought you'd have something better in your arsenal than the go-to charm of a teenaged Harry Potter."

Glaring, seething, she directed three other curses at him in quick succession.

 _"Avis Oppugno!"_

"Protego."

 _"Alarte Ascendare!"_

"Protego!"

 _"Confringo!"_

"Protego." He sounded almost bored, which only infuriated her further. Damn it, she was out of practice, having not dueled since the Final Battle over a decade before, and having rarely used her magic for anything more than domestic and practical purposes over the last five years, especially since she vacated her position at the Ministry.

"Get out of my home, Malfoy," she said. "I mean it."

He grinned, recognizing her growing insecurity. "Have all these years as a housewife decimated your magic? Are you truly less talented and capable now than you were at sixteen? Do you remember your first big duel when were sixteen, Hermione Granger? Do you remember fighting for your life in the Department of Mysteries? Do you remember that curse Dolohov directed your way? How long was your recovery? Were you permanently damaged? Did it cost you your Gryffindor bravado? Or did a failed career, two broken marriages, and a couple of needy children do that?"

She sighed as if wounded and moved as if to sit at the kitchen table, but this was to give him a false sense of security. Halfway to lowering herself into a chair, she hopped up and said loudly, "Cruc–"

"Protego!" He was still too quick for her, but now, at least, he looked and sounded concerned. "An Unforgivable, Miss Granger? Do you truly loathe me enough to risk a lifetime in Azkaban, after all you did before to avoid it?"

"Mummy, you're home!"

Before Hermione could respond to Malfoy, Helena tore out of the bedroom and flung herself against her mother's legs. The girl shot a wounded look in Lucius' direction. "That man wouldn't leave."

"He's leaving now," Hermione assured her.

"Mummy!" Now Henry was in the room. He glared at Lucius, holding out the crayon in his hand as if it were a wand. "Bad man!"

Lucius sneered. "Rude child."

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him off for criticizing her kid, but Henry was quicker.

"Acca-menny!"

Thanks to the power of the (usually involuntary) magic only the youngest witches and wizards possess, a jet of water shot out from the crayon's tip, sending a stream as blue as the crayon itself in the direction of Lucius Malfoy. It fell short of him by several inches.

"Cute," said Lucius sarcastically, though his expression revealed that he was at least slightly impressed by this burst of intentional, controlled magic. "Listen, Miss Granger…"

"Ms."

"Ms. Granger."

She blinked in surprise. This was the first time he'd used her name as requested. Even so, she maintained her defensive pose.

"Lower your wand. Let's talk."

"We have nothing to talk about, Mr. Malfoy."

"I believe we do, Ms. Granger. I believe we have a lot to talk about. Put the children back in the bedroom. I don't want them to witness it when I beg your forgiveness."

"When you… what?"

He hadn't come here to beg her forgiveness. He'd made that clear when he propositioned her again, when he goaded and mocked her. He must have an ulterior motive – with Malfoy, there was always an ulterior motive – she simply needed to parse out what it was, otherwise she might never move on.

Still, she did not lower her wand.

"Why are you here? Tell me the truth."

"I don't like the way things were left between us."

"You mean when you called me a Mud…" She caught Helena's eye. "The _M-word_ countless times while degrading and humiliating me as punishment for Reginald's debt."

"That bastahd," said Henry, recognizing his father's name.

"Cute," said Lucius again, but this time he chortled. He stepped closer, meeting Hermione across from the alcove, where the kitchen bled into the sitting room. "Please. I apologize for my proposal. Disregard it. And allow me five minutes of your time."

"I'm not interested in your apologies, Malfoy." She pushed back her shoulders and held her head high, unwilling to show weakness. "I have no interest in ever again interacting with you, your sadistic wife, your spoiled niece, your barely-redeemed son, or _any_ of the Death Eaters with whom you used to surround yourself."

"Not _any_ of them?" He took a step closer, so they were nearly touching. "Not even your boss?"

"He's not one of you."

"He certainly _was_. He didn't take the Dark Mark on Dumbledore's order. He believed in blood purity, in wizarding supremacy, in taking our rightful place over Muggles and…" His gray eyes darted down in the direction of the children, who were both clinging to their mother's legs. " _M-words_. He committed heinous acts for the Dark Lord, Ms. Granger. Don't let him make you believe otherwise. He tortured, he killed, he raped."

"He didn't!"

"Didn't he?" Lucius' grey eyes twinkled. He was enjoying this even more than their brief 'battle,' which made her hate him all the more. "Of course he did. Ask him about the night he received his Dark Mark. Ask him about the gift the Dark Lord gave him. Ask him if he remembers her name. She didn't survive to see sunrise. Probably for the best."

"I don't believe you, Mr. Malfoy."

"Severus shared that prophecy he overheard knowing it meant a family would be destroyed, that a baby would end up dead, and he felt no remorse over it until he realized the Dark Lord believed it to be about his childhood love. He begged for her to be spared – her, and her alone. He asked not for the salvation of the husband she loved so dearly, nor did he plead the deliverance of her baby son. Granted, he hated James Potter, so that's not surprising, but the fact remains, he was content to _let her baby die_ so long as she went unharmed. That's your Professor Snape, your boss, your… _friend_. I have my flaws, Ms. Granger, I won't pretend to be perfect, but I can tell you, I would never have given over a child to the Dark Lord. Never."

Hermione opened her mouth to point out that he'd nearly gotten Ginny Weasley killed when she was eleven by basically doing just that, but his next words stopped her.

"On the contrary, Narcissa and I alone appealed to the Dark Lord on the baby's behalf."

"What do you mean?"

"We advised the Dark Lord that killing a baby might not be the best idea. We suggested he kill the parents instead and take the child. We even offered to raise him alongside our own son."

"Why would you do that? I don't believe you."

"Ms. Granger, I was a voracious reader in my days at Hogwarts. Surely that's something to which you can relate. I spent many long hours in the restricted section, learning about ancient and forgotten magic. I was aware of the potential _side-effects_ of murdering an innocent child. I will not pretend my position was an altruistic one, though. I figured it would be easier to keep an eye on him as he grew if he were close by. We could monitor him and better discern the threat he might pose for us later, and, when the time came, take him out, thus solidifying our position as the Dark Lord's most trusted and valuable servants."

"And Narcissa, she agreed to this?"

"Narcissa was… a new mother. She was highly emotional at the time." He sneered as if this repulsed him. "She thought if we raised him as we planned to do Draco, he wouldn't grow to be a threat to the Dark Lord, but an asset... She thought it would be nice, giving our son a brother, a second child for us… She was still reeling from the shock of…" He averted her gaze. "Draco's birth was... difficult. There were complications. An issue that most unfortunately runs in her family. She nearly bled to death… Afterward, when they told us… when they said… Well, she was devastated when we were told she should never again conceive, for childbirth might prove too dangerous…" He cleared his throat and shook his head as his eyes refocused. "She wouldn't have consented to killing Harry Potter, not as a baby, and certainly not after raising him ourselves, but thankfully it would not have been up to her. She was as _weak_ then as she was the night she lied to the Dark Lord."

Though Hermione hated Narcissa with a passion, she couldn't help wanting to defend her in this moment, to argue that lying in the face of Voldemort about Harry being dead was probably the strongest thing that vile woman had ever done, one of the bravest things any witch or wizard had done that night, but she held her tongue.

"Severus Snape turned his back on us after his beloved Lily's death, but not because he saw 'the error of our ways.' His defection was personal, and his work for Dumbledore was done out of guilt, forced upon him by a manipulative man intent on using that guilt to mold Severus into a useful servant. Don't fool yourself into believing otherwise."

"He's a good man," insisted Hermione, though she couldn't help wondering how much about him she truly knew. Still, just as she had the night she saved his life, instinct told her she was correct in her defense of him. "He has made bad choices in the past, but he dedicated himself to the Order and his own redemption. He is a _good_ man."

"Believe what you must, Ms. Granger," said Lucius with a shrug.

"Mum-mum?"

Hermione's breath hitched in her throat as Hero came toddling out of the bedroom, arms raised, wanting to be picked up. She'd assumed the girl was in her crib.

"Mum-mum?"

Hermione was frozen, as if stupified. She wanted to take the child in her arms and hide her, make her invisible to Malfoy, to take her and the other children and disappear, but she couldn't will her body to move.

"You _do_ enjoy popping out rug rats, don't you?" asked Lucius with a laugh. He picked up the baby girl. Hermione blanched, feeling as though she might vomit. She broke from her freeze and reached for her daughter, but he backed away.

"She…" The snarky comment he'd been about to make died on his lips. "How old is she?"

"Give her to me!"

Malfoy was staring directly into Hero's eyes.

Grey eyes.

They were Draco's eyes. His new grandson's eyes. And his own eyes.

"How old is she, Ms. Granger?"

"Give her!" She grabbed Hero and yanked her roughly out of Lucius' arms, the surprise of which made the baby begin to wail. "Don't touch my children."

"How _old_ is she?" he whispered. He looked as sickened as Hermione felt, displaying a vulnerability few had ever seen him exhibit free from the presence of the Dark Lord or the Azkaban dementors. He seemed almost… fearful.

"You need to leave, Malfoy."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She poked him in the chest with the tip of her wand, prepared to use it, prepared to use every Unforgivable if that's what was necessary to get him out of her home and their lives.

"Last warning! Get. The Fuck. Out."

"That's a bad word," murmured Helena, who couldn't help herself. No one paid her any mind.

"Ms. Granger…"

"I said that was your last warning! Sectum…"

"Fine!" He held up his hands in surrender and backed toward the door, not taking his eyes off baby Hero. "I'm good as gone."

The moment he was outside her home, he apparated away. She waved her wand, locking the door behind him, then, one by one, she placed every ward around her flat she used to use when hiding out with Harry and Ron, mentally chastising herself for not having done it before.

"Who was that man, Mummy?" asked Helena, her cinnamon eyes wide with fear.

"He was… no one important," she answered distractedly. "Kids, let's… let's go for a little trip. I'll pack a bag. You come with me."

They followed her obediently, silently, into the bedroom. She placed Hero in the crib, grabbed the canvas bag she usually used for groceries, charmed it with the illegal expansion charm she'd used when on the run during the war, and began throwing in necessities: wipes, diapers, rash cream, pajamas, a couple of extra outfits each, her money pouch, their toothbrushes, toothpaste, a hairbrush, Helena's ragdoll, Tales of Beedle the Bard, and each of the younger children's special stuffed animals from Severus.

Severus.

She couldn't go on the run without at least informing him she was going.

Hoping she wasn't making a terrible mistake, she took the three children and the bag, stepped into the fireplace, tossed down the Floo Powder, and called "Snape home, Spinner's End."

When they stepped out, it was to find him dozing on the couch, the empty wine bottle beside him, the empty firewhiskey bottle on the end table. He'd done another couple of shots as soon as Narcissa had gone (about a half hour prior) to take the edge off, with the intention of rushing to Hermione's afterward, but when combined with his pain potion, his earlier exertion, and the previously consumed liquor, it proved to be too much. He'd sat down to lace his boots and shamefully passed out.

"Pofessah!" called Henry, clamoring excitedly out of the floo. He scrambled up onto the couch, positioning himself on Severus' chest.

"What the…" Severus awoke with a jolt, instinctively grabbing the boy roughly with one hand and his wand with the other. He held the wand to the boy's throat, his eyes wide and mad.

"Pofessah?" asked Henry, frightened by this reaction.

"Henry!" Severus was breathing hard, silently glad his reflexes weren't what they used to be – he might have hexed the boy! He loosened his grip on Henry's arm and lowered his wand. "Henry, I'm sorry. What… what are you doing here?"

"Have you been drinking?" Hermione picked up the wine bottle and shook it to confirm it was void of contents. She pointed the nose of it at the firewhiskey.

"Uh, not much." He picked up Henry, sat up, and placed the boy beside him. "What – why – you came back? You brought the children?"

"I'm leaving."

"You don't have to!" he said quickly. "I was surprised, that's all."

"I mean, I'm leaving London. I'm leaving my home. I'll go to the Leaky Cauldron for a few days to regroup, if Hannah will have me, then we're moving on. I wanted to tell you in person, not by owl. I'm sorry I won't be able to work for you anymore."

"I don't understand." He rubbed his temples, in need of a Pepper Up Potion, or better yet, a sobering one. Ugh. When had he turned into such a lightweight when it came to liquor? "Why are you leaving?"

"He was in my home."

"He… what? Who?" Severus continued to struggle to clear his head. How much time had passed since Narcissa departed?

"He! Him! Lucius Malfoy!"

Severus leapt unsteadily to his feet, finally comprehending. "Lucius Malfoy was in your home?"

"When I got there! He was on my couch. He'd forced his way in, intimidating my sitter and terrifying my children!"

"He called us the _M-word_ ," said Helena. She reached into her mother's bag for her ragdoll. "He was a mean old man."

"This Pofessah's house?" asked Henry, exploring the sitting room, no longer shaken by Severus' response to their presence.

"Yes, Henry. This is my house."

"You has toys?"

Severus half-smiled. "Not really, no. Well, actually… I might. Upstairs. In storage."

"You don't need toys; we're not staying long," said Hermione. She reached into the bag and pulled out his dinosaur. She tossed it to him but it bounced off his chest as his arms closed on air. "I'm so sorry to drop in on you, Severus, I truly am, but I panicked. I'm still panicking. I hate running away, but it's what's best for… I put new wards on my flat, but… It was unnerving, to say the least, finding him there, and worst of all, he's seen… he knows…" She nodded toward Hero, who was still in her arms, hoping he'd get the gist without needing it spelled out.

He did.

"So, as I said, we are going to go to the Leaky Cauldron, to see if Hannah can rent us a room for a few days while I'm looking for a new place to live, somewhere far from London, perhaps somewhere outside the UK. I spent several holidays in France as a girl and speak enough of the language, perhaps we'll go there. I don't believe it would occur to him to look for us in Paris. We may have to live like Muggles for awhile before integrating into the French wizarding community, but given my upbringing we could certainly manage." The more she spoke, the more sense this made. She should have done it long ago. She had been playing with fire, so to speak, for over two years, living in London, frequenting Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade with her children in tow. It had only been a matter of time…

"I don't believe it would occur to him to look for you here," said Severus. His head was pounding from the liquor and the pain potion had worn off, but he was thinking clearly enough, and one thing he knew for certain was that he didn't want her to flee to France, he didn't want her to say goodbye. "Why don't you stay? Have dinner, spend the night. I have two extra bedrooms upstairs. They'll need a bit of dusting, which I can do after we eat, but I have extra bedding. At least for a day or two, until you decide what to do."

"Stay at Pofessah's house?" asked Henry. He looked around as if sizing up the place. "You has a VCR?"

"I don't want to go back to the Leaky Cauldron, Mummy," said Helena. "Are we running away again?"

"No, love," Hermione lied. "Not… exactly."

"Stay here," insisted Severus. "At least for the night. The kids must be hungry, they'll be tired soon. There may not even be an available room at the Leaky Cauldron. You can figure out a plan in the morning."

"Okay," said Henry. "Stay with Pofessah."

Helena seemed less certain. "Mummy?"

"For one night," said Severus again. "Just one."

Hermione looked to him, then to the expectant faces of her two older children, and finally at the squirming grey-eyed baby in her arms. "Alright, we'll stay. But just this one night."

Though the circumstances were not happy ones, Severus smiled, content to have the company.

"You relax. I'll make dinner. I'd been planning to have cottage pie. I know the kids like that."

"I make dinner!" announced Henry. "I make dinner too?"

"You may be my assistant," said Severus. He took the little boy by the hand and led him into the kitchen. "Relax," he called to Hermione. "It's under control."

Hermione tried, but she couldn't relax. Not only because she was unnerved by the fact Lucius had found her and discovered her greatest secret, but because of what he'd said about Severus. Though she was certain he was merely trying to needle her, to plant doubts in her mind, to make her rethink trusting her former professor, a part of her… the tiniest part of her… wondered whether Malfoy had been telling the truth.

Despite this nagging worry, she was confident Henry would be fine in the kitchen with Severus, thus she took Helena and Hero upstairs to check out the sleeping accommodations. She knew his bedroom was the first door on the left, which meant the rooms to the right past the bathroom and at the end of the hall must be vacant. She opened the door on the right first. This must have been Severus' bedroom as a child, but it appeared to have become a bit of a storage place. In addition to several large wooden crates stacked on top of each other, there was an antique wooden crib shoved into the corner opposite a single bed, and between them, a small dresser. A faded poster for a now-defunct Quidditch team was up on one wall under the Slytherin insignia, which looked to have been stitched by hand. There were a number of dusty books atop the dresser, all academic, including her old favorite, Hogwarts, A History, and a Cleansweep 5 leaned against the closet door. She would have to hide that, lest risk Henry zooming around on it all evening. She opened the closet door. In here were a number of old toys: a beginner's potions set, a box of gobstones, several rusting metal Muggle toy trucks, a teddy bear missing an ear, a Wizard's Chess set and a Make Your Own Drooble's Best Blowing Gum kit. Hanging up were his old school uniform and Hogwarts robes. Not wanting to be too nosey, she shoved the broom inside and shut the door.

Everything needed a good dusting, so Hermione went to the loo for cleaning supplies, transfigured a clean pillowcase into a sling so she could wear Hero on her back, and set to work with Helena as her assistant. About an hour later, thanks to a combination of teamwork and magic, the room was clean, the bed was made, and the wooden crates had been moved to the equally dusty bedroom at the end of the hall. She and the girls headed back downstairs and entered the kitchen just in time to see Severus teaching Henry how to set a table.

"You place the fork here and the knife here. See how the napkin stays folded until it's time to eat? We don't wear them, they are not capes."

"Fork, spoon, napkin," said Henry obediently, copying Severus' movements. Despite Severus' last words, Henry had a white cloth napkin tucked into the back of his shirt. Like a cape.

"You do the next one yourself."

Severus handed Henry a fork, knife, and napkin, then crossed his arms, watching, very much in professor mode. Carefully, Henry placed each where it should go, then looked up at Severus, seeking approval.

"Well done."

Henry beamed.

"We got the upstairs bedroom ready for tonight," said Hermione cheerfully, hoping he wouldn't mind that they hadn't waited for him to clean it.

"I help paw a dwink!" announced Henry proudly, pointing at the full cups of pumpkin juice on the counter.

"He also helped set the table," said Severus, not realizing they'd witnessed him doing so. "He was an excellent assistant."

Hermione kissed her son on the top of his head, transfigured an extra chair into a high chair for Hero, and settled the baby into it. Though she was itching to tell Severus about Lucius' disturbing visit and he was dying to hear about it, they kept the discussion pleasant for the sake of the children, who didn't seem to remember that anything had been wrong.

Helena, abandoning adult conversation for a change, told Severus all about their most recently rented movie, 'Bedknobs and Broomsticks,' which was "about a witch but not a real witch like how Mum's a witch, just a pretend witch which is silly!"

Henry sat more politely than usual and actually made use of his napkin, frequently glancing at Severus to make sure they were doing the same thing, while Hero mashed her meal with her hands, as babies do. Once the kitchen was all cleaned up, Hermione and Severus took the children outside to show them the garden, since there was about ten minutes of light left. Helena and Henry raced around, burning off excess energy, while Hero tried to pick off bits of anything she could reach to pop in her mouth, which kept Hermione busy. Severus was quick-thinking enough to place a ward around the Dragon's Nightshade that prevented the children from getting too close to it.

Afterward, Hermione took the children upstairs for a bath, changed them into jammies, brushed their teeth, and read them a story. Once they were all tucked in and drifting off, she tiptoed back downstairs to talk to Severus. She relayed Lucius' entire 'visit,' including the horror she felt when he realized Hero was his, and her fears he would use this knowledge to somehow harm or attempt to manipulate her. She only left out what Lucius had said about Severus – for reasons she couldn't explain even to herself, she wasn't ready to confront him with this.

Severus clenched his fists as he listened and fought the urge to react, though he wanted to punch a wall, or, better yet, to punch Malfoy. He wished she'd managed to get in a good hex, but had no room to judge; he was out of practice too. Perhaps they ought to spend a little time together getting their magic back in shape, assuming he could convince her to stay longer.

"That's why, even though I placed wards around the flat, I had to get out," Hermione went on. "I didn't want to leave you without notice, which is why I took the Floo Network here first. Moving won't be easy, but…"

"There must be another way. I'll speak to him."

"No! Absolutely not. I can handle this on my own. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate… everything. The way you are with the kids, especially Henry, and that you invited us to spend the night, but I don't want you going to him to fight for my honor or something equally ridiculous. Life is not a fairy tale and in the real world, sending in a prince – or sending in a Half-Blood Prince – to fight the woman's battle doesn't work."

"Hermione," began Severus, about to suggest they confront Malfoy together, but she cut him off.

"Please, I want to figure this out on my own. I did a lot of thinking while Helena and I were cleaning. I'm not going to flee to Paris, I'm not going to abandon the wizarding world, and I'm not going to keep looking over my shoulder. If I handle it that way now I'll be handling it that way forever, which won't be good for me or for the children. I'm going to do… something else. But in the interim, I need to find a new place to live and I need you to be supportive without taking control."

"Very well," he conceded. "If that's what you want."

"It is."

They dropped eye contact, both focusing their attention rather randomly around the room instead, wondering where to go from here. Severus contemplated telling her about his own surprise visit, but he wasn't sure she was ready to hear about it, nor was he sure exactly what he was going to say. Several minutes passed.

"Severus?" Hermione quietly broke the silence. "I really am grateful that you invited us to stay the night."

"I'm glad you're here." Severus leaned forward, reaching up to move her hair away from her face. "I'm glad you came to me."

"Me too," she whispered. She pressed her lips gently to his, her fingertips lightly brushing against his cheek.

"Me free!" said a loud-but-little voice from behind the couch.

Hermione and Severus jumped. Hermione leaned over the couch to see Henry crouching there, his plush dinosaur in his hand.

"Hi!"

"Henry John Granger, get over here!" Once he was beside her she lifted him into her lap. "You are supposed to be sleeping!"

"I not seepy."

"How did you get down the stairs?"

"Slided."

"Young man, it is bedtime! And I don't want you going down the stairs by yourself, you hear me? It's not safe. You could fall! Severus, I'll be back down soon." She carried Henry up the stairs. Severus waited. And waited. And waited.

After about half an hour, Severus took his cane and made his way up the stairs to check on them. He opened the door to his childhood bedroom to find Hermione, still fully clothed, asleep on the bed with her feet on the floor. She looked as though she'd passed out sitting up and fallen backward.

Henry, meanwhile, was sitting on the floor with several of Severus' rusty old toy trucks and his soft dinosaur, playing.

"Hi Pofessah!"

"You're supposed to be sleeping."

"Not seepy!"

Severus sighed but couldn't hide a small smile. "What will make you sleepy?"

"A stowy?"

"Fine. Come with me. We'll go find a story." Severus put out his hand and the little lad took it, allowing himself to be led to the stairs. Severus paused, afraid he didn't have the strength to carry the boy down. "How would you like to fly, Henry?"

"Fwy! Yes!"

Severus nodded, listened to be sure Hermione was still asleep, and flicked his wand, whispering, "Levicorpus."

Henry flipped upside down as if being held by the ankle by an invisible force. He giggled madly, loving it, as Severus levitated him down the stairs, following slowly with the aid of his cane. He deposited the boy on the couch, grabbed the first book he saw off the shelf by the fireplace, and sat beside him.

Henry scrambled into Severus' lap, much to his surprise, and made himself comfortable – which made Severus uncomfortable, as he'd never cuddled a child before, but he opened the book and began to read.

"Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona where we lay our scene…"

Henry was asleep by the end of the prologue.

Which is when Severus realized he was stuck.

He couldn't very well levitate the boy back upstairs without waking him. So he read the rest of Romeo and Juliet's first act, eventually succumbing to sleep himself, his head tipped back against the back of the couch, with Henry still snuggled up in his arms.

Around two in the morning, Hermione awoke and panicked to find she and Helena were alone in the bed. She hurried first to Severus' room, but finding it empty, she rushed downstairs, which is where she discovered her boss and her son and an open book on the couch. She smiled, relieved, and lifted the boy into her arms.

"Severus?" she whispered, shaking him gently. His eyes fluttered open. "I'm going to take Henry up. You should go to bed. It's the middle of the night."

He followed her up the stairs at a snail's pace and turned off to the left, to his room, while she continued into the room in which she and the kids would sleep. He changed into a soft sleep shirt and Muggle cotton pajama bottoms, took another half-dose of pain potion, and crawled under his covers.

He was just dozing off again when he heard his bedroom door open and close. He could make out her outline in the dark. She slipped into bed with him, wearing her own cotton Muggle pajamas. He wrapped an arm around her, urging her closer.

"Is this alright?" she whispered. "I'm here to sleep, nothing more, and only for tonight, as we'll be leaving tomorrow. It's just… that bed is awfully small for the three of us."

"This is alright," he assured her.

She kissed his cheek and closed her eyes. He lay awake, listening as her breathing became deep and even, indicating she was asleep. She was curled against his side and though his muscles were sore and his skin was tender, he continued to hold her, inhaling the sweet coconut scent of her hair.

Was it alright?

As far as he was concerned, it was better than alright.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Yesterday (Sunday, 4/23) was Shakespeare's birthday. I celebrated by watching clips of Helena Bonham Carter (Bellatrix Lestrange) starring as Ophelia in Hamlet. If you're a fan (of hers or of the play) check it out. It's from 1990. She looks like a baby. Harry Hobbit, I thought of you because I know you adore HBC as much as I do. In particular, watch the scene in which Ophelia has gone mad and confronts Queen Gertrude. Fantabulous.

Thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing! Expect Chapter 19 tomorrow or Wednesday and Chapter 20 shortly thereafter.

 **-AL**


	19. Two Nights Together

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

 **Two nights together…**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

When Severus awoke, he thought he was still dreaming. Beside him in bed was the sleeping form of Hermione Granger, wearing a fitted soft pink tanktop and lightweight, grey cotton pajama bottoms, her bushy brown hair spread out across his extra pillow.

It took a moment to remember she and her children had spent the night at his home on Spinner's End, and that Hermione had crawled into bed with him around two-thirty in the morning.

For several minutes he watched her sleep, trying not to think about the fact it had been almost fourteen years since he last spent the night with a woman. He'd had sex since then, but this, spending the night together, sleeping intertwined, was an intimacy he and his post-relationship partners had not shared.

When she awoke she stretched, yawned, rolled over, and smiled at him, her brown eyes shining.

"Good morning."

"Morning." He wanted to kiss her, but she had said she was here only to sleep, that's all, nothing more… and besides, what if he had morning breath? The bitter potion he'd taken upon crawling into bed a few hours earlier didn't exactly taste of strawberries and sunshine.

"Three more questions," she said, propping up her head on her hand, her elbow on the pillow. "Answer yes or no."

He scowled. "You're certainly persistent with this."

"I don't have sex with strangers," she said, but her face flushed and she added, "I mean, you know…"

"Three questions," he interjected. "Go."

"Have you ever contracted a social disease?"

"Does agoraphobia count?" His expression was serious but the mischievous twinkle in her eyes told her he knew what she meant, and that this answer did not satisfy her. After a beat, he smirked. "Don't look at me that way. No, I have never contracted a social disease – or a sexual one, for that matter. Have you?"

"Never."

"Good. Second question?"

"How long was your longest relationship?"

"That is not a yes or no question."

"You did not specify that they had to be this time. So answer. How long?"

He quickly did the mental math. "Six years, four months."

"Six years, four months?!" Clearly this came as a surprise. "Who did you date for six years and four months? How old were you? Were you in love? Were you engaged? Did you live together?"

"Which is your third question?"

"I… damn it. I don't know! I want you to answer all of them. Were you ever engaged?"

"I already told you I've never been engaged, remember?"

"I know, but… six years, four months? Who _just dates_ for six years, four months?"

"I do," he said dryly.

She rolled her eyes. "That question doesn't count, then, since I asked it before. Did you live together?"

"In a manner of speaking," he answered. "We lived… close by."

"She lived on or near Spinner's End?"

"No."

"Did you ever go on holiday together?"

"I've already answered three questions," he said.

"Fine." She flopped onto her back, looking unperturbed. "I'll ask you three new questions every week and if you continue to answer them at this pace we could quite possibly end up having sex before I'm a grandmother. How old will you be in twenty-five years?"

"You play dirty," he said, rolling onto his side. He placed his right hand on her left hip, his arm resting across her midsection. "Go on, ask away. Ask all your questions. But be advised I may decline to answer some."

"Did you and Ms. Six Years, Four Months ever go on holiday together?"

"Every summer for a couple of weeks, yes."

Hermione tried to picture Severus Snape, approximately twenty years younger, lounging on a beach with a girlfriend. The very thought of it made her giggle, especially as she envisioned him on that beach wearing the sort of attire he always did when she was a student - long black robe over button down black shirt, black trousers, long sleeves, boots...

"What's amusing about that?" he asked and she instantly felt badly for having wounded him.

"Nothing! It's just... all those years, you went away together, but you were never engaged, and you never lived together? Only close by?"

"Correct."

Hermione nodded as something clicked in her brain. "Oh! She was a professor, wasn't she? How didn't I see it? And you were together until 1994? Was she still teaching in 1994?"

"She was."

"So I must know her!" She wracked her brain, flipping through mental image after mental image of the 1994-95 staff of Hogwarts.

"Possibly. Probably."

"Did I take her class?"

"I don't know. It would have been an elective."

"This is fun!" Hermione sat up cross-legged and grinned down at Severus. "Okay, first guess… Professor Vector?"

"Septima? You can't be serious!"

"What's wrong with Professor Vector?"

"She's so… severe. Strict. Stoic."

"So were you."

He scowled. "I can't imagine frigid Septima ever dating anyone, ever. Try again."

"Professor Babbling? She taught Ancient Runes."

"I know what Bathsheda taught. No, I never dated her. She's half-mad."

"Okay, then was it… Professor Sinistra?"

"Aurora? Personality-wise we may have been compatible, but she and I have one too many things in common."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning we both prefer the company of women."

"Oh!" Hermione's cheeks went slightly pink. "Alright… How about… er… Professor Trelawney?"

"Trelawney?" Severus now appeared highly insulted. He sat up. "She's bloody barmy! Worse than Bathsheda! And an alcoholic. Do you really envision us together? How desperate for affection do you believe I was?"

"I'm running out of ideas! Professor Sprout?"

"She's got almost twenty years on me!"

"You've got almost twenty on me!"

"Don't remind me!"

She giggled and took his hand between hers. "Madam Pomfrey?"

"She's not a professor. Also, she's older than she looks. She's older than Sprout. Though I'd prefer her over Trelawney, to be honest. At least she's sane. And sober... usually."

This made Hermione laugh harder. "Alright, who else is there? McGonagall? Hooch? Grubbly-Plank? Binns?" She threw in that last one just to tease him.

"Elderly, lesbian, happily married, and a ghost – a _male_ ghost. I'm beginning to feel you're overlooking the obvious."

"Can't be that obvious if I haven't hit on it!" She kissed the back of his hand. "I give up. Tell me."

He grumbled an answer but she couldn't make it out. She prompted him to repeat himself.

"I said, it was Charity Burbage."

"Professor Burbage?" Now she dropped his hand and scrambled up on her knees, even more shocked than if he'd said it was Trelawney after all. "Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies professor? No wonder I didn't guess! You were a Death Eater – I mean, everyone thought you were – and you spent over six years dating the _Muggle Studies_ professor? Why did you break it off? Or did she break it off?"

"I did. Right after Christmas in '94."

"Why?" Hermione was imagining the beach again, but this time with the two of them vacationing together: tall, foreboding, pale-faced, perpetually frowning Severus Snape, and short, homely, soft-bodied, kind-eyed Charity Burbage. She couldn't.

"Don't you remember what was happening then?"

Hermione thought back to the middle of her fourth year. "Yes. The Triwizard Tournament, the Yule Ball…"

"The start of the second rise of the Dark Lord Voldemort. My Dark Mark was coming back. I knew it was only a matter of time, and if he knew the truth about us… Later, after being ratted out by a comrade, I managed to convince him ours was a relationship of convenience, that I was using her for sex. He liked that. I believe he felt she deserved to be used. Plus, she was pureblood, which worked to my advantage and her detriment, as he felt it meant I was 'unsullied by a Mudblood' – excuse the term – whereas she should have known better than to advocate interacting with Muggles."

"What ended up happening to her?" asked Hermione, no longer laughing. "I mean, I know she disappeared some time after sixth year, and she's listed among the casualties of the war, but…"

"He killed her. Voldemort. In front of a number of us at Malfoy Manor."

"Why? Because of her subject?"

"Because a month earlier she had sent a letter to the Prophet about the importance of accepting, working with, and protecting Muggleborn wizards and witches. She also pointed out that we'd have died off if we hadn't started marrying Muggles centuries ago and put forth the position that we should continue to do so, rather than allowing pureblood family lines to descend into madness as a result of inbreeding. He used the Killing Curse and fed her to his snake."

"That's heinous!"

"Her last words were, 'Please, Severus, we're friends.' Thankfully, she didn't say more, or I might have been dead that day too, but I regret that she died thinking I was… one of them."

"Oh, Severus, I'm sorry."

He shrugged, forcing the painful memory from his mind. "It was a long time ago."

"Did you love her?"

"Not in the way she wanted me to," he admitted guiltily. "As I was still unquestionably in love with Lily. Obsessed with Lily, I see now. But I liked and respected her. We got along well and kept each other from being too..."

"Lonely?"

"I still considered us friends, even after we stopped…" He cleared his throat. "The day she was brought to Malfoy Manor, there was nothing I could do to help her. Nothing. Or I would have. You have to believe me. I did not wish for it to happen and if I thought I could have saved her…"

"I believe you," said Hermione. She leaned forward until her lips were but a breath from his. "I promise, Severus, I believe you."

She could see the pain in his eyes, the guilt, the self-loathing. In her eyes, he could see compassion, kindness, and, best of all, a lack of judgment.

He closed the gap, his lips pressing against hers as his hands went to her hips and hers went to his face, as they were suddenly and inexplicably overwhelmed by mutual desire.

"I haven't been a good man," he said between kisses. "I've done terrible things, things I never wanted to do, things I regret, that I'm ashamed of, but they were for the greater good, under Dumbledore's instruction, all with the express intent of taking down the Dark Lord…"

"I know," she said, kissing him over and over and over again. "I know, I know."

"I've never raped a woman," he said. "Never killed when I thought there was any alternative. Never attacked a Muggle child, never murdered for sport… Never… never…"

"I know…" She kissed him deeply. "I know… I believe you…"

"I was bitter, but I was also playing a role. I was cruel to students. I was cruel to you..."

"As you said, it was a long time ago." She kissed him again.

"I regret it. Do you forgive me? At the time, it seemed there was no other way..."

"It was a long time ago, Severus." Again, she kissed him. Passionately, wantonly. "You are a different person now."

"I wish I'd been a better person then." He lowered her onto her back, positioning himself on top of her, removing her shirt as she removed his, exploring her upper body with slightly calloused hands.

"Sometimes when I look back on the war, I feel numb," she admitted, running her small hands over his chest and shoulders. "I can't believe it happened; I can't believe that was me. I saw good people die. I saw good people _kill!_ I dueled with Bellatrix Lestrange. I used an Unforgivable Curse. I used it on Dolohov to stop him attacking my friends…"

"He deserved it…" Severus' lips moved from hers to her cheek, to her neck, to her shoulder. "You did what you had to, we all did. You were brave."

"I don't want to feel numb," she said, arching her back. Her hand entangled itself in his hair, guiding his mouth back to hers. "I don't want to feel numb."

"I know," he said. And he did. Numb was a feeling he knew all too well. He knew the pain both of physical numbness, the numb that affected his limbs as a result of the pain potion, and the emotion numb, the numbness he felt for years after the Final Battle, when he was stuck in recovery unable to function independently, left to rot alone with his thoughts.

He ran his hands over her bare breasts, unable to stop himself from thrusting between her legs, further aroused when she writhed against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and moaned as he grinded against her. He moved downward and took her nipple in his mouth has he had that time on her couch before they'd agreed to slow down, flicking his tongue over the hardened pebble in the center, eliciting another moan. He took it into his mouth again and sucked, hard, making her dizzy. She cried out as abruptly he stopped, breathing heavily. He stared up at her.

"Is this alright?" he asked.

"It's alright," she said, urging him to continue. "I don't want to feel numb." She ran her fingernails over the skin of his back and shoulders, then slid one hand down to brush against his groin. He removed her hand, pinning it above her head on the pillow, afraid too much too soon would result in a… premature conclusion. She bit her lip, afraid she'd done something wrong.

"You want me, don't you?"

Without answering, he kissed her roughly, thrusting against her, wanting to badly to divest her of her pajama bottoms and bury himself inside her. When his mouth moved to the spot below her ear, she repeated it in a whisper.

"Don't you?"

"Isn't it obvious I want you?" He took her other nipple in his mouth this time, his teeth just barely scraping over the center. He paused only long enough to slip the pad of his left thumb in his mouth, wetting it, then resumed this oral stimulation of her left breast while using his moistened thumb over her right while she clung desperately to him.

"Touch me," she begged, grabbing his hand and guiding it between her legs over her pajamas. "I need you to touch me."

He did not need to be told twice. He kissed her hard on the mouth, tasting her tongue with his own - she tasted of toothpaste, fresh and minty - and began to rub her with his palm and fingers. He maneuvered himself so he was more beside her than on top, ignoring the pins-and-needles sensation overtaking his sore body, and rubbed harder when she bucked against his hand. He stopped and brought his hand up to her belly, his fingertips just under the band of her pajama bottoms and knickers. When she her eyes met his and she did not protest, he slid his hand under her clothing, against her skin, and continued to pleasure her. She gasped and placed her own hand over his, but on the outside of the material, guiding him to where it would feel best.

"I love that you're so wet for me," he growled in her ear, which made her shiver, as he placed his fore- and middle fingers against her clit and massaged in quick circles.

"Yes," was all she could think to respond. "Yes… yes…"

They were kissing aggressively, desperately, when he slid one finger inside her, followed by a second. She dug her short nails painfully into the backs of his shoulder while he fucked her with his fingers, urging him to go faster, to take her to the edge and over…

"Yes," she murmured over and over between kisses. "Yes… please… yes…"

"You're beautiful," he groaned in her ear, curling his fingers forward as his thumb moved over her clit, making her hips buck harder. "Brilliant, brave, and beautiful…"

She could scarcely breathe. She held tightly to the pillow beneath her head, whimpering with pleasure, as he growled her name into her ear sandwiched between words of desire and promises of all he would do for her - and to her - if only she wanted him to. Suddenly, she grabbed his wrist and demanded, "Stop!" Her body twitched and jerked as she was overwhelmed by her first non-solo orgasm in years. When it had completely washed over her she released his wrist, kissed his temple, and struggled to catch her breath as he collapsed back onto his own pillow, equally exhausted.

Once her mind had sufficiently cleared, she moved onto her side, inching closer to him, and gently reached tentatively down to brush her fingers against his tented pajama bottoms. He groaned when she stroked him, even though the touch was light and through the fabric of his clothes. When he groaned again, she unbuttoned the fly of the pajama bottoms and ran her fingertips up and down his length. This made him flinch, though his cock twitched contentedly.

"Does it hurt when I touch you?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No!" he said vehemently. "No, don't stop."

She didn't. She wrapped her hand around his base and brought it up to his tip, then back down, curiously, cautiously. "Does this hurt too?"

"Yes. But don't stop."

She moved her hand faster, watching him closely, gauging his reaction. He opened his eyes.

"It feels good," he assured her. "It hurts and it feels good. Don't stop."

She ran her thumb over the head, making him groan again, then leaned down and flicked her tongue over it.

"Oh, fuck, yes," he said, entwining his hand in her hair as she'd previously done to his. Now it was his turn to utter expressions of pleasure. "Yes… fuck… yes…"

She flattened her tongue against his head, tasting the precum that was forming there, and closed her lips around him before pulling back to draw her tongue down his shaft and up again. She had never considered herself terribly skilled in this area and was especially nervous considering both Severus' special circumstances and the fact that he was her former professor, a notion she tried (and failed) to force from her mind entirely, but his labored breathing and intermittent groans told her she was doing fine. He gripped her hair more tightly, fighting a personal battle between losing himself in the sheer pleasure of it and asking her to stop on account of the pain. When she took his head into her mouth and sucked his hips jerked and it was an additional struggle not to push her down further onto him. He willed himself not to lose control, but _fuck_ , it had been a long time since the last time a woman did this for him – eleven years, almost exactly. Not that he'd been counting.

"I… won't… last…" he choked out, wondering whether she'd want to take this further, knowing his _stamina_ wouldn't be what it once was, and worrying over whether she'd be disappointed by him.

"It's okay," she whispered, making eye contact. "You can… finish… when you want to."

"Fuck," he growled appreciatively, encouraging her to continue. She used her hands and tongue and lips and mouth as her long hair tickled his thighs, creating a unique additional sensation that was also mixed of pleasure and pain. When he came, her choice to swallow was its own turn-on, and, for some reason, helped to assuage his embarrassment over having only lasted a matter of minutes.

Afterward, she lay in his arms, her head on his shoulder. He lightly scratched her back as she held him, one arm wrapped around his waist, one thigh slung over his.

"Severus? When we are… intimate… Assuming we will be, eventually… Will it hurt you… will it hurt to put your… to be inside me?" She felt uncomfortable, guilty even, putting forth the question, but it had to be asked. She could tell it was hurting him even now simply to have her head on his shoulder.

"I hope not," he answered.

"If it does…?"

"If it does?" He kissed her forehead. "If it does, I promise, I'll suffer through.

It wasn't long before they could hear Hero crying in her crib in the bedroom down the hall, which would surely wake her siblings. Hermione used a quick spell to clean up, then pulled her shirt back on and offered to make breakfast after getting herself and the kids ready for the day. Severus said he'd be down after a shower.

Hero was in her high chair making a mess of her toast when Severus joined them in the kitchen. Helena was standing on a chair beside her mother, helping by stirring the beans, while Henry had insisted upon setting the table all by himself, which, Hermione suspected, had been done in an attempt to impress the "Pofessah."

After breakfast, they took the children back outside to play in the garden while they worked on pulling weeds. Henry brought out the old, rusted trucks Severus' had forgotten out in the rain as a boy, while Helena was happy to help Hero walk up and down the rows they'd already cleared, looking for interesting bugs or hiding toads.

Both adults froze when they heard the chime that meant someone was attempting to breach the new wards Severus had put in place the night before.

"Stay here and try not to make noise," he instructed Hermione. Though she did not like being ordered about like a child, she nodded, knowing it was better if no one knew they were there.

Much to her surprise, though, moments later it was not the voice of a Malfoy she could hear in the sitting room, but of Hogwarts Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. Curious, she picked up the baby, ordered Helena and Henry not to wander into the brush area they hadn't begun clearing yet, and headed inside.

"Hermione Granger!" exclaimed Minerva. "My dear girl, how are you?" She hurried across to room to give Hermione a hug, then shook baby Hero's little hand. "Who is this little one?"

"This is Hero," said Hermione, "My youngest. Hero, say 'hi' to Professor McGonagall."

"Hi-hi!" said Hero, opening and closing her fist.

"What brings you here?" asked Minerva innocently, looking from Hermione to Severus and back again.

"I work for Professor Snape, as an assistant. I help with potions, meal prep, shopping, housekeeping, the garden…" Though it was honest work, Hermione couldn't help but being a bit ashamed to admit it. She was sure her former Head of House had higher expectations of her, just as she'd had lofty goals for herself, none of which she'd amounted to.

"We're trying to develop a more effective, less addictive pain medication," said Severus, sensing her discomfort. "Hermione has always excelled in potions; her assistance is invaluable."

"St. Mungo's could certainly use a better pain potion," said Minerva. "Perhaps once you've perfected it, they would be interested in purchasing."

"That would be nice," said Hermione, for the first time thinking beyond what a new pain potion would mean for Severus. If they could sell it, with her name tacked on under his, it might be the start of a career in the potions field for her.

"We missed you at Neville and Hannah's wedding," said Minerva. "It was lovely."

"So I heard," said Hermione, trying to smile.

"Unless I'm mistaken, Minerva is here to convince me to take a teaching position beginning in January," explained Severus. He handed Minerva a glass of gillywater, then offered one to Hermione, who declined. "It seems her Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is going on maternity leave."

"Cho Zabini," said Minerva, nodding confirmation. "She's due in February so she's going to take off after Christmas and return to us in September. She's had the position for – let me think – it must be six years now. I do not have the time or resources to train someone new simply to fill in, which is why I'd hoped Severus might consent to…"

"But Severus is not interested," he interrupted. "Severus has no interest in teaching students or returning to Hogwarts, ever."

"Please, I'm only asking you to consider it," said Minerva. "You wouldn't have to live on campus, you could travel by Floo Network, I'd make sure you're connected. And you wouldn't be a Head of House, so you could skip half the staff meetings and all the dinners and breakfasts. No hallway patrols, no holiday parties, no weekend work. You know the position; you're more qualified than anyone…"

"I'd hardly be popular among the students," said Severus. "Or among the staff."

"You never were," Minerva pointed out unhelpfully. "But you were a capable teacher and that's what I'm seeking."

"If I promise to think it over," Severus said slowly, "Will you stop asking?"

"Yes."

"Then I shall think it over."

"Thank you! That's all I ask."

Minerva was sipping down the last of her gillywater when Helena and Henry charged into the room from the back garden.

"Henry John and Helena Kate Granger, you freeze right there!" said Hermione, pointing her wand at them (not that she was going to use it). "Look down at your trainers. You are tracking dirt all over Professor Snape's home."

"I'm so sorry, Professor!" said Helena with a horrified gasp. She slipped off her shoes and placed them carefully by the door.

Henry, on the other hand, laughed maniacally. "Fuck dirt!"

Minerva's mouth dropped open. Hermione was mortified. Severus laughed.

"Stop that, Severus!" scolded Hermione, who had already admonished him for this at breakfast when the boy told his toast to sod off. "Every time you laugh, you're encouraging him. You might as well call him a good boy and hand him a biscuit!"

"Biscuit?" asked Henry, picking up on this key word. "I want biscuit. Mummy? I want biscuit."

"No biscuit," she said.

"Pofessah, I want biscuit."

"I'll get you a biscuit," said Severus. He turned to Minerva. "Excuse me a moment. Make yourself comfortable, unless you're in a rush to return to the school?"

"I have nowhere to be," said Minerva, bemused. Severus sighed.

"Come along, Henry," he said.

"Severus!" snapped Hermione. "Don't reinforce his negative behaviors!"

"I'm not. I'm simply getting the boy a biscuit."

"No biscuit!" she said. "Not after using that language!"

"Mummy, I want a fuckin' biscuit!" Henry demanded, stomping his foot, on which he was still wearing a dirt-covered trainer.

"Henry, I mean it, you stop saying that F-word or... or... or I'll spank you!" Henry's eyes widened. He'd seen other kids get spanked at the park, but it had never happened to him. "And Severus, you stop laughing! You're ruining my children."

"Not all of them," Severus argued, leaning over to pick up the boy, half-hiding a chuckle. "I'm only ruining this one." He added to the boy in a loud whisper, "Don't worry, I won't let her spank you."

Henry grinned. Hermione fought the urge to throw a couch pillow at Severus.

"Mummy? May I have a biscuit too?" asked Helena hopefully. "Please? I have been very good all day."

Hermione let out a sigh of resignation. "Certainly, Helena."

Severus, still holding Henry, put out his hand. Helena took it. He led them into the kitchen. Minerva smiled. Hermione offered her another gillywater, poured it, and got herself a glass of red wine, though she didn't usually drink during the day. The two women settled on the couch.

"Severus seems to have taking a liking to your little ones," said Minerva.

"He has." agreed Hermione. "He's funny about it. He's rather strict in some ways, but he lets them get away with murder in others, as you've just seen. Especially Henry. He'll use that no-nonsense professor tone to scold him for misbehaving at dinner, but immediately afterward he'll charm the veggies on my son's plate so they literally _dance_ into his mouth."

"Are you… seeing each other?" Minerva hoped she wasn't prying, but given the cat in her, she was too curious not to ask.

"I don't know what we are," admitted Hermione. "I mean, he's my boss and I'm his employee, but…"

"But?"

"But I don't know what we are. I… I fancy him, I can't deny it, and it's mutual, but in a sense, it feels… somehow… inappropriate…"

"Inappropriate?"

"To think of him in a non-professional way, I mean." Hermione's cheeks turned the color of her wine as her mind flashed back to their foreplay-filled morning. "After all, he _was_ my professor."

"Twelve years ago, he was your professor."

"Yes. You don't think that's… inappropriate?"

"My dear girl, I dated one of my professors when I was still in school. _That_ was inappropriate. _This_ is entirely different. You're both adults, far removed from your days at Hogwarts. If you're interested in Severus, you shouldn't let a misguided sense of propriety keep you apart. As for him, he began teaching around age twenty-one and has taught nearly every witch and wizard in the UK since. I imagine it wouldn't be easy for him to find a date at all if he automatically eliminated from the realm of possibilities every one of his former students."

"That's true," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Wait a moment, did you say you dated one of your professors when you were a _student_?"

Minerva laughed. "It was over sixty years ago. Let's not worry on it now."

"Alright," said Hermione, but now she was the one being killed by curiosity.

"Tell me about your life since Hogwarts," said Minerva, sipping her water. "I was pleased you returned to complete your seventh years and take your N.E.W.T. exams, though I was surprised you and Ron married so quickly. You were young. You could have waited."

"Do you reckon if we'd waited, we'd still be married?"

"If you'd waited, you might never have been married in the first place. But what do I know? I was married once, my husband passed unexpectedly a few too-short years later, and I resigned myself to never falling in love again. I will say, I never thought you and Ron Weasley were well-matched. And I was surprised to learn you'd married again so soon after the divorce, but I assumed…" Her eyes darted toward the kitchen door. "You had to?"

Hermione nodded.

"She seems like a lovely girl." Minerva stroked Hero's soft hair. "As does this one. And your son is… Feisty."

"He has his moments," agreed Hermione. "He's a rule-breaker."

"As were you! I seem to remember catching a certain Gryffindor out of bed after curfew on more than one occasion. First year alone, you were in the third floor corridor when you shouldn't have been, you were at Hagrid's hut when you shouldn't have been, and you were nearly killed by a troll when you shouldn't have been."

"In my defense, I hadn't actually gone looking for the troll," Hermione admitted. "I was crying in the bathroom because I'd been teased. Ron and Harry came to warn me."

"Why didn't you tell me? That would have been much more forgivable than thinking you'd sought it out! I might have given you lot a few more House Points had I known."

"Are you disappointed in me?"

"For telling a lie when you were twelve? No, of course not."

"I don't mean about that. I mean, did you think I would amount to better?"

"I thought you would achieve whatever goals you set out for yourself, much like Mr. Potter," said Minerva. "It seems your recent focus has been on raising your children and keeping away from the public spotlight. There's no shame in that."

"It's not what I wanted with my life," Hermione admitted. "I still think about a Ministry career, what that would be like. I still want that."

"Then I have no doubt you'll someday achieve that." Minerva patted the younger woman's knee. "You are a bright and capable witch, Hermione. You know, if Severus turns down the position, which I suspect he will, you might consider it. I understand it could be difficult for you to arrange childcare given the odd hours professors have, but you'd excel in the position, and I imagine students would be excited to learn from you, as they've grown up knowing your name. Many of next year's students will be among the first born after the end of the war. Teddy Lupin will be part of that class."

"It seems so long ago," said Hermione quietly, picturing Tonks and Lupin after the Final Battle, lain out beside each other, so peaceful they might be sleeping. She set her squirming daughter down on the floor. "It seems so long ago and yet, it doesn't."

"I know," said Minerva, looking just as melancholy. "I understand why Severus does not wish to return. I would understand if you told me you did not wish to return. But Hogwarts is thriving; the students are so far removed from the carnage, even some of the seventh years don't have any concept of what those days were like, especially the Muggleborns who've only read about it in books and heard stories from their peers. The name Voldemort does not scare them, but the names Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger remain revered."

"Mummy, Pofessah gived me _two_ biscuits!" announced Henry, rushing back into the sitting room with one peanut butter cookie in each hand. "I'm sowwy I say the bad wohds."

"Are you _really_ sorry, or did Professor Snape tell you to say sorry?"

"Pofessah tell me." Henry took a big bite of one biscuit. Severus and Helena entered, carrying several more biscuits on a small plate. Helena handed a piece to Hero, who was standing up holding onto the end table, then offered one to Minerva.

The Headmistress stayed awhile longer, chatting with Severus, Hermione, and precocious Helena, while Henry and Hero played. That evening, the almost-couple took the children out to a local restaurant for a change of pace, figuring Lucius Malfoy was unlikely to be skulking about Muggle establishments in Severus' area, and made the unspoken mutual decision to spend another night together. After the kids were in bed, and Hermione was certain they were asleep, she and Severus settled on the couch.

They had an awful lot to talk about.

* * *

 **A/N:**

The next chapter is 20 which means the format will be a bit different (like Chapter 10) then one of the Malfoys will call on them in Chapter 21... but which one? And why? (insert dramatic music here - lol). Thanks for reading and reviewing!

 **-AL**


	20. All My Sins Remembered

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

 **Be all my sins remembered.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

He hadn't meant for it to happen.

He arrived on his usual night,

At his usual time,

On the Dark Lord's orders.

The Dark Lord was not present.

Bellatrix was not present.

Lucius was not present.

He had no reason to stay.

He had a million reasons to leave.

But she was crying.

And she was beautiful.

-0-0-0-

She was at work in her office.

He was dropping off paperwork.

All he needed was a signature.

They'd seen each other around, but never met.

He had a nice smile.

The nicest smile.

A charmingly lopsided smile.

White teeth, slightly crooked,

A strong, mid-sized nose.

Brown eyes, lighter than her own,

Featuring flecks of gold.

"I've heard a lot about you," he said.

Smiling.

She expected him to bring up the war.

They always seemed to bring up the war.

But not him.

"You pushed for that legislation to criminalize

House Elf abuse," he said.

He asked her out to lunch to talk discuss it.

He was charming.

That damn smile.

-0-0-0-

She asked him to stay.

She asked him to get drunk with her.

"I don't want to drink alone."

He should have said no.

But it had been a difficult day.

A difficult week.

A difficult month.

Year.

Hell, he'd had a difficult life.

What was one night of inebriation

(with another man's wife)

Going to matter?

They had sex on the floor of the drawing room.

They didn't undress all the way. It didn't last long.

It wasn't great.

But exactly one week later, he called upon her again.

This time, she invited him into her bedroom.

-0-0-0-

Lunch after lunch after lunch led to dinner.

The third dinner led to breakfast.

Why shouldn't she move on quickly?

Ron had. Ron had moved on before she had moved out.

Lavender Brown, Padma Patil, Lucretia Blake, Lita Whitley, Sheila Brooks…

Ron had moved on all over the UK.

She deserved a charmingly lopsided smile, brown eyes, flecks of gold.

He was good in bed. Better than her ex-husband.

More experienced. Confident.

Divorced, like her.

Muggleborn.

Not in contact with his parents.

They could relate.

And he didn't ask about the war.

Lunch after lunch after lunch after dinner after breakfast -

And he didn't ask.

That's what she liked best.

-0-0-0-

By unspoken agreement…

Once per week, Wednesday night –

After eleven,

He called upon her.

She'd take his hand and lead him to her bed.

They were careful to avoid being seen together.

Especially by her sister or her son.

This continued when the school year resumed.

He could Floo directly into her bedroom from his chambers.

If anyone noticed that they were connected, no one said.

He had finally advanced

To the long-coveted Defense Against the Dark Arts position

But found it half as monotonous as Potions.

And twice as disappointing.

-0-0-0-

Sometimes they stayed at his place,

Sometimes they stayed at hers.

It felt like her first grown up relationship.

Odd for a divorcée to say, but it was the truth.

They went out to Muggle plays,

Fancy restaurants, used book stores,

A concert, the library, out dancing...

Window-shopping in Diagon Alley.

He never preened for the cameras or consented to an interview.

He never asked her to pretend to be having a good time.

(As Ron so often had.)

They simply had a good time,

Because times were good.

He said "I love you" first.

She did not hesitate to say it back.

-0-0-0-

She went to him, sobbing, when her son was assigned his task.

"The Dark Lord means for him to die!"

She was desperate, despondent, depressed.

Terrified.

Only he could help her.

So he made the Unbreakable Vow.

What else could he do?

-0-0-0-

He didn't like it when she went out with her friends.

So she stopped going out with her friends.

He didn't like it when she had drinks with her coworkers.

So she stopped having drinks with her coworkers.

He didn't like it when she was too busy or too tired to stay over.

So she stopped being too busy or too tired.

-0-0-0-

He never spent the night.

Not the entire night.

But once in awhile, they fell asleep together.

For an hour or two.

Around Christmas, they started to talk.

They'd talk before jumping into bed.

Or they'd talk in bed.

Or after they'd finished in bed.

Talking was dangerous.

Talking was more dangerous than sex.

Talking was the difference between a fuck –

And an affair.

It became an affair.

But he didn't want her.

Not really.

He wanted Lily.

The memory of Lily.

She was beautiful, yes.

But she would never be Lily.

-0-0-0-

He fell hard and fast for her –

And she for him.

They got pregnant too quickly.

She hadn't planned on getting pregnant at all.

She hadn't wanted children in her twenties.

Not until her career was well-established, not until she was

Well on her way

To being the youngest-ever Minister for Magic.

Her pregnancy thrilled him.

He couldn't wait to be a father.

They moved in together, got engaged.

Got married.

Had a daughter.

She had doubts about motherhood through the entire pregnancy –

But when she looked down at the sleeping face of her newborn…

 _Helena Kate Park_

She fell in love.

Hard and fast.

She'd never loved Ron that much.

Could never love Reginald that much.

No love could compare to that of a mother

For her baby.

-0-0-0-

Every week, every Wednesday, quarter to midnight –

He went to her.

Her sister grew bigger with each passing month.

"I'm not supposed to have more children," she said.

"I wanted a girl," she said.

"But I'm not supposed to," she said.

"I could die."

Even without Occlumency, he could sense she was bitter.

Jealous.

She wanted a baby.

So he broke it off. Then,

Lucius was released from Azkaban,

Draco returned home for the summer, and

Things went back to normal – a new normal –

A world-ruled-by-Voldemort normal.

He saw her on occasion,

At Malfoy Manor,

On business for the Dark Lord.

She greeted him indifferently, as she always had before.

He regarded her just as distantly.

Their brief affair was naught but a memory.

One night,

In December,

Severus went to Malfoy Manor

As summoned by the Dark Lord.

Lucius was out. Narcissa was alone.

And they fucked again, without talking

Against the wall in the drawing room. It happened

Once more in February, and twice in March

And thought they didn't talk,

Not during sex, and not about it,

He had a feeling she was still jealous of her sister.

Which is why it should not have been a surprise -

(But it was)

When she owled him in April, before Easter, and

Her message contained two words:

"I'm pregnant."

Two weeks passed. Then he owled her a glass vial -

An abortion potion -

One he'd brewed himself.

On the label, he'd written:

"Take care of it."

She sent the vial back when it was empty.

Her note read, "I did."

Less than a month later, the war was over.

-0-0-0-

He wanted another child right away.

A boy.

As if she could create a boy on command.

"I'm quite content with one," she said.

He was not.

He was also unhappy when she returned to work.

"Mothers belong home with their babies," he said.

Too soon for her,

And not soon enough for him,

They got pregnant again.

Had a boy.

 _Henry Granger Park_

Now she was a mother of two.

-0-0-0-

He hadn't wanted children.

Not ever.

He wouldn't be a good father.

He didn't know how.

And he wouldn't poison the life of a child the way his father had.

He had to stay away.

It was for the best.

She was married.

They weren't in love.

He could only make matters worse.

It was for the best.

-0-0-0-

She hadn't wanted children yet.

Not while she was in her twenties.

She wasn't ready.

She'd had big plans.

And she certainly hadn't planned on being a single mother.

Of three.

By twenty-seven.

But leaving him was for the best.

She'd be better off doing it alone.

The children would be better off.

Especially the baby.

 _Hero Grace Granger_

A girl with no father.

It was for the best.

-0-0-0-

He wouldn't be a good father.

She hadn't planned on single motherhood.

He could only make matters worse.

The children would be better off.

It was for the best.

It was for the best.

"Be all my sins remembered."


	21. Who Comes Here?

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

 **Peace! Who comes here?**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

"Narcissa paid me a visit yesterday," he started. They were seated beside each other on the couch, a fire going opposite them providing the only light in the room. "I wanted to tell you, but you were already upset…"

He relayed much of their conversation, what she'd said about Lucius and Reginald and how it hadn't been her idea, but because he felt some lingering loyalty to her, he did not tell Hermione she'd spent the entirety of her marriage being beaten by her husband.

He did, however, admit to their affair.

"What?" Hermione leapt up, spilling several drops of her butterbeer. "When?"

"The year Malfoy was in Azkaban. It started shortly after he was arrested at the Ministry and continued regularly until he was released... and on occasion during the year that followed. It was meaningless. Sex. Nothing more."

"Nothing more?"

"Nothing more."

"How did it start?" Even though she had no reason to feel jealous or betrayed, Severus could sense she was experiencing both. "Why did it end?"

He answered her questions as completely and honestly as he could. She sat stone-faced as she listened, her hands clasped together in her lap, which made it all the more uncomfortable for him – he wished she would say something, or at least visually react. Finally, when all had been said, she asked, "Why didn't you tell me before now?!"

"I don't know," he replied.

"That is _not_ an acceptable answer."

He sighed. She was right, of course. It was both unacceptable and a lie. "I decided against it after we had that fight."

"The one in which I accused you of sleeping with Narcissa?"

"That's the one. I considered the fact that I might have to tell you eventually, but as things were going well between us…" He scowled. He was not the type to willingly engage in relationship discussions, he never had been, which was one of the things about him that drove Charity mad. "I put it off because it was easier."

"Were you attracted to her?"

"Very much, at the time."

"Are you still attracted to her now?"

"Not in the least."

"Is she attracted to you?"

"I doubt she ever was. She was lonesome and afraid, envious of her sister, terrified for her son. I believe I took advantage of her emotional fragility, though I didn't see it that way at the time."

Hermione, having difficulty picturing Narcissa Malfoy as 'emotionally fragile,' pondered this a few moments before commenting. "I don't like that you slept with her, but I cannot, in all fairness, be angry with you for it."

"Then you forgive me?"

"You needn't ask my forgiveness for having had an affair a decade ago."

He thought he was in the clear, but then she met his eye. "What I'm upset about is the fact that you kept it from me because you thought it would make me upset."

"Then you _are_ upset?"

"Yes."

"But it was over a decade ago!"

"I told you, I'm not upset about that. I'm upset because you lied to me!"

"I did not lie!" He pushed his hair away from his face. "I simply failed to mention it until now."

"That's a lie by omission, Severus."

"Listen." He put his own butterbeer down on the table and took her free hand between both of his. "I have lived most of my life surrounded by secrets, Hermione. When I was a child, I had to keep the details of my home life a secret. Living among Muggles, I had to keep my magic a secret. When I was a young Slytherin, I had to keep my blood-status a secret. When I became a Death Eater, I had to keep that a secret, and when I defected to Dumbledore's side, though I played spy for both sides, I had to keep my true loyalties and intentions a secret. I never told Charity about Lily, I never told Narcissa about Charity, and I never thought I would tell anyone about Narcissa. Keeping my cards to myself has been my primary act of self-preservation since I was a small boy. Hiding my emotions has always been second-nature; it's what made me an ideal Occlumens. I assume you're aware, but Occlumency can be taught to anyone with the willingness to learn, whereas Legilimency must be innate to be developed."

"Yes, I've read extensively about both," she said. She let him continue to rub small circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, but otherwise her body language remained decidedly distant. "Both Occlumens and Legilimens are rare, for different reasons. Occlumency is difficult to master while Legilimency tends to run in families."

"Narcissa and her sisters are all both Legilimens and Occlumens. Most Legilimens make it a point to learn Occlumency. Knowing what it's like to intrude upon the thoughts of others makes one more likely to wish to avoid having his or her own mind invaded. I began employing Occlumency as a young child, though I did not yet know what it was called. I thought, because I could read the feelings and occasionally hear the thoughts of others, that everyone could, which made me all the more determined to master the art of closing myself off. By the time I joined the ranks of the Dark Lord, I was a natural. He never suspected I possessed either ability."

"Fascinating," said Hermione genuinely. From an academic standpoint, it was indeed fascinating... and knowing he could so easily read her made her want to learn Occlumency too. Perhaps she would ask him someday to teach her, but for now, she was now thinking about what Malfoy had said when he was taunting her.

"Severus? You joined the Death Eaters because you believed in blood supremacy?"

He shook his head. "I joined the Death Eaters because I wanted to belong. I wanted to be important. I wanted to make a name for myself. But I won't pretend I was against blood supremacy. My father was both a Muggle and cruel man, and the Muggle children who lived nearby tormented me at every opportunity. I hated them. I wanted to be better than they were; I wanted them to know I was better. Only Lily was kind, but I never considered her a Muggle. She was one of us."

"Tell me about the night you received your Dark Mark," Hermione said softly.

If Severus was surprised by the request, he didn't show it. He told her about the tasks he and his three friends had to fulfill before being invited to take the Mark, he told her how they'd received their masks ahead of time and been assigned code names, as there was a great deal more anonymity during the First War than during the Second, and he told her about how they had to demonstrate their abilities with two of the three Unforgivable Curses in front of the entire group before being Marked. Though they hadn't figured out who they'd tortured until later, Rosier eventually knew he'd been assigned Yaxley, Avery had been assigned Malfoy, Mulciber had been assigned Dolohov, and Severus had been assigned Rabastan Lestrange.

Bellatrix and her husband had arrived late, holding a terrified Muggleborn woman between them.

"We had a spot of trouble, my Lord," she said, looking to their Master with fear in her eyes. "Aurors arrived and saved the others. We barely escaped with this one."

That was when Severus learned that new recruits usually practiced these curses, including the Killing Curse, on captured Muggles or Muggleborns. He was relieved that they'd been spared having to do so, though the Dark Lord expressed he was unhappy about Bellatrix's tardiness.

"When it was over, they all disapparated, save for the Dark Lord, Bellatrix, myself, Mulciber, Avery, and Rosier. We were told we could keep the woman as a gift. The others took turns with her…" Severus withdrew his hand from hers, too ashamed to touch her in this moment. "I did not. I hope you can believe me. I did not touch her… but I _did_ kill her. She was going to be killed anyway, once they were done with her. I genuinely thought she was better off. I regret it now. I should have wiped her memory and let her go. I never knew her name."

Hermione wiped away a stray tear, hating the thought of him in that situation, her heart broken for that nameless young woman, and filled with revitalized hatred for sadistic Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Now you tell me something," said Severus.

"Yes?"

"Tell me about this Reginald. You are an intelligent woman, Hermione. How did you manage to fall for a man who would betray you in such a way, who would walk away from his children, who could prioritoize money over his family and sink so deeply in the world of gambling he saw no other way out? I do not ask this to seem judgmental of you, understand – I simply cannot fathom it. I have a difficult enough time believing you were ever married to that git Weasley, and you were friends with him for years."

She hated talking about Reginald, hated thinking about him, but she found it was easier to explain their circumstances and history to Severus than she could've imagined it would be. Once she reached the end of their romance – Henry's birth – she had more questions for him. He answered them as honestly as he could, though in truth there were still secrets he was keeping from her, secrets he wasn't even ready to think about, never mind discuss.

Eventually the conversation wound its way back to his relationship with Charity, and he told her a funny story about getting caught messing around with her in the staff room once (by a red-faced, mortified Fillius Flitwick) so she told him an equally embarrassing story about Molly walking in on her and Ron completely naked at the Burrow a few weeks before they were married.

Warmed by the fire, they shared and commiserated, they laughed and she cried, they lamented and reminisced, until the grandfather clock struck three.

"We need to go to bed," she said, standing and stretching. He did the same.

"I agree."

"I'm sleeping with the children tonight," she said as they headed toward the stairs.

He halted.

"I thought you'd forgiven me for lying about Narcissa. Are you still angry? You said you understood."

"I forgive you, I am not angry, and I do understand, but you've told me a lot tonight, Severus. And I'm glad you did, I truly am, just as I'm glad that I was able to tell you so much. But it's a lot to process, even the good parts. And I think I'll better be able to wrap my mind around whatever we might have if we're not sharing the same bed. Are you angry with me?"

"No," he said. It was the truth. He was disappointed, hurt even, but not angry. "Perhaps tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow – today, really – I need to give serious thought to my future, to the children's future. We can't stay here forever." She smiled. "I'll not be a kept woman, remember?"

"I remember," he said, but he couldn't help thinking he wanted to keep her.

She kissed him briefly on the lips. "Goodnight, Severus."

"Goodnight."

But not a half an hour later, Hermione, clad in pajamas, hair still damp from a shower, entered his bedroom. Her bare feet padded softly across the wood floor. She stopped when she was by the side of his bed. His eyes were closed. Perhaps he was already asleep? Losing her nerve, she turned to go.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I can hear what you're thinking. I'm not asleep."

"I changed my mind," she whispered. "I want to spend the night in your bed."

"Because the bed in the other room is too crowded?"

"…No."

He slid over and drew back the covers, inviting her in.

"Have you taken your pain potion tonight?"

"Only half a dose." He wrapped his arms around her, her back to his chest. The tingling in his limbs was intense, but otherwise, he was not in pain… for the moment. "Shall I consume more?"

"I don't know. I… I want us to take things slowly."

"I am capable of taking things slowly," Severus spoke directly into her ear, his breath tickling her skin, his voice low and velvety. Unable to help himself, he added, "First, I shall kiss you slowly." He pressed his lips to her neck. "Then, I'll undress you slowly." His hands slid up the front of her shirt from behind. He ran his fingertips over her breasts. "I'll explore you slowly…" He ran his tongue along the edge of her earlobe, making her heady. "I'll touch you slowly..." One hand ghosted back down to between her legs, under the fabric of her pajama bottoms and knickers. She squirmed, already wet for him. "I'll taste you slowly…" He rubbed his fingers against her clit. "And pleasure you slowly…"

"Yes…" she moaned. "Yes, please…"

"I'll enter you slowly…" He slid a finger inside her. "And fuck you slowly…" He moved his hand, thrusting his groin against her arse, making her whimper. "Until you scream my name…"

"Yes…"

"Say it," he said. "Say my name."

"Severus… Severus, yes…"

"What do you want, Hermione?" He added a second finger, increasing both his speed and the pressure, as his other hand grabbed her breast roughly. He was in danger of losing control. His lips went to her shoulder and he growled, "What do you want from me?"

"I want you inside me," she answered. "Take another dose of that potion. I want you inside me now."

"What do you want inside you?" He curled his fingers as he had that morning, which nearly made her cry out with bliss. "My fingers? They're already inside you. Or my tongue? Do you want me to lick you, to taste you?"

"To fuck me," she groaned, bucking her hips, feeling his growing arousal against the small of her back. "I want you to fuck me."

"With my fingers? With my tongue? You're going to have to be more specific."

"Oh… Severus…"

"Tell me, Hermione..." He quickened his pace with his fingers, making her thighs quiver. "Tell me what you need."

"I need... more. I need you!"

"Tell me."

"I... I can't!" She felt dizzy, disoriented, but in a good way. "I... I want... I want..."

"Be specific," he demanded in his no-nonsense professor voice. "Tell me what you want from me. How shall I fuck you? With what?"

She writhed against him, aching to be filled, as he sucked at her neck, hard enough to leave a mark. "I can't say it!"

"If you want it, you can say it," he growled, abruptly ceasing the movement of his fingers, but keeping them inside her, a tease. "What do you want, Hermione? What do you need from me?"

"I want your cock inside me," she said, wiggling her hips, desperate for him to resume. "I want you to fuck me. I want you now. I need you now."

He pulled out of her, flipped her onto her back, and, with his body positioned over hers, reached for the vial of pain potion on his bedside table. He regretted the loss of sensation downing it would bring, but so long as it didn't affect his ability to remain hard, he was willing to sacrifice feeling pleasure to avoid pain provided it lasted long enough to allow them to be together. He swallowed the potion in two gulps and was removing her shirt when the chime indicating someone had passed through the property's first wards alerted them to a presence.

"Who could that be?" she asked, her eyes wide and fearful. "It's four in the morning!"

"No one is able to enter the house," he said, willing to ignore the visitor, as he was now uncomfortably hard - this, despite the potion-induced neuropathy, he could still feel. The person knocked, indicating they had somehow broken through the first protective ward that should make the front steps unpenetrable by would-be guests. Hermione and Severus remained frozen like bunnies within sight of a wolf, listening, hoping to somehow assess the danger level without actually having to go downstairs. The person knocked again. And again. Whomever it was certainly was persistent.

"Severus Snape, I know you're home!" called a familiar voice, magically magnified and yet unable to be overheard by Muggle neighbors. "I know you're awake! Clear your mind, for fuck's sake, I even know what dirty thoughts you're thinking."

"Damn it!" Severus swore, rolling off Hermione. He immediately went blank-faced, employing Occlumency.

"I'm not leaving!" called the person at the door. "I'll spend the night on your step if I have to."

"Remain here," he ordered Hermione, extricating himself most unwillingly from the bed. He grabbed his robe and hurried across the hall into the loo to quickly relieve himself before heading downstairs.

But headstrong Hermione could not remain there. She shuffled down the hall into the bedroom the children were sharing, quickly dressed, and transfigured a toy truck into a baby gate to ensure the children would remain in the bedroom should they awaken. She was halfway down the stairs when Severus, wand drawn, opened the door to grant entrance to their unwelcome visitor.

"Narcissa," he drawled, not realizing Hermione was behind him. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Don't worry," she snapped, pushing past him, also not yet spotting the young Gryffindor. "I'm not here to lecture you about taking responsibility for your child."

"Child?" Hermione gripped the stair railing. "What child? You told me she had an abortion."

Narcissa's cobalt blue eyes flashed dangerously as she spotted Hermione. "You told her I had an abortion?"

"You _did_ have an abortion!"

"That's irrelevant, Severus! That was our business, mine and yours alone, not to be shared with other people!"

"She's not people," he argued, closing the front door and waving his wand to lock it.

"Then what the fuck is she? A centaur? A half-giant?" Narcissa glanced around the sitting room, which was cleaner than she'd ever seen it, not a speck of dust anywhere. Decidedly, she added, "A house-elf."

"Narcissa…" he began in a warning tone, but she cut him off.

"What's she doing here, anyway? I thought she was your employee, not your whore."

"I _am_ his employee," said Hermione, glaring at Narcissa. "What are you doing here?"

"None of your business, Mudblood. Where are your children? Why are you spending the night on your back for your boss? Shouldn't you be at home minding your own? Better question: if you're here, where the fuck is my husband?"

"I…" Hermione had been prepared to defend herself against this vile older woman's character attack, but that last question had thrown her. "What do you mean, where is your husband?"

"He received a letter yesterday morning and left shortly thereafter to settle an undisclosed matter with you, and he hasn't returned. I thought perhaps you decided to let him stay–"

"Why would I–?" Hermione started, but Narcissa kept speaking.

"He can be rather persuasive. But then, at exactly three this morning, I received this by owl, which made me think perhaps something more nefarious than a casual fuck for money was going on." She pulled from her pocket a silver severed snake's head… the head of Lucius' walking stick, the one in which he kept his wand. "Broken off and sent to me. What do you make of that?"

Severus took the snake's head from Narcissa's shaking hand. Hermione made her way down the rest of the stairs to stand beside him.

"You were the last one to see him," Narcissa said accusingly, pointing her wand at Hermione. "What have you done with him? Where is he?"

"I wasn't home yesterday morning. I didn't see him."

"Liar!" Narcissa hissed. "He told me he went to your flat the other day. He told me about… about your grey-eyed baby. He told me he was going to offer you money, that you needed it desperately…"

"I don't want your money," interrupted Hermione. "I don't want anything from you, or from him."

"I don't believe you, you Mudblood slag. Everyone wants something. He said he–"

"You'll not speak to her that way, Narcissa," said Severus sternly. "Or I shall evict you from the premises and not permit you reentry, understand?"

She shot him a nasty look before continuing, still pointing her wand in Hermione's direction.

"I don't believe you didn't see him, little girl! I don't believe you don't know where he is! I don't believe you didn't get pregnant on purpose, to extort money from us. I don't believe that you thought fucking my husband to repay your debt was _my_ idea - Lucius swears he told you no such thing. I don't believe you didn't come up with it yourself, then tell Severus you thought it was my doing simply to garner yourself a bit of sympathy, you conniving Muggleborn bitch."

"Narcissa!" snapped Severus. She ignored him.

"I don't believe a damn thing you say."

"I wasn't home! I didn't see him!" Hermione held her wand against Narcissa's, like crossed swords. "And I most certainly did not _want_ to sleep with him, nor did I get pregnant on purpose, and if you think otherwise, you're as psychotic as your dead sister was! Your husband practically raped me and that's the truth."

"Nonsense. You could have walked away. You had a choice. You don't know what rape is, little girl."

"I know that I suffered on account of–"

"You don't know suffering! What suffering have you ever endured?"

"Remember this?" Hermione thrust up her sleeve, showing Narcissa the raised red slur still carved in her forearm. "Remember when your sister tortured me right in front of you? All I've ever experienced at the hands of the members of your family is suffering!"

"Join the club, then. But don't expect sympathy from me, little girl. Not when the rest of us have had it far worse for far longer."

"Little girl? Little girl!" Hermione stepped closer, waffling between wanting to hex the older woman and wanting to claw her eyes out. "Quit calling me that. I'm no longer a little girl! Know who is? My daughter, my baby, the _little girl_ your revolting husband fathered quite against my will!"

"Against your will?" Narcissa's wand hand shook harder, making Severus wonder whether she'd been drinking. "That's not how I understand it. He says you liked it, you liked him, you begged him for more, it was all part of your plan..."

"He's a filthy liar!" said Hermione, struggling to keep her voice down to avoid waking the children. "Either he is or you are!"

"I thought so too, until he told me you demanded money, you manipulative-"

"Hermione was here," Severus cut in, hoping to diffuse the tension before an actual battle broke out. "She and her children have been here since Lucius left their flat the other night. They came straight here and haven't left. We've no idea where he is or who sent that note."

"Oh, she was here the whole time was she?" Narcissa's eyes filled to the brim with frustrated tears as she lowered her wand and faced Severus, hurt replacing the anger. "She _and_ her children? How kind of you, Severus, to care so much for her fatherless babies. If only you possessed the same consideration for your own child, rather than helping the poor divorcée raise hers, I might not be in this state of constant stress. I might have been able to walk away a decade ago, rather than remaining trapped, but no..."

"What is she talking about, Severus?" Hermione looked to him sharply. "What child?"

"I have no child." He kept his face blank, expressionless, calm. "Narcissa is mistaken."

"Narcissa most certainly is not mistaken," said Narcissa. "Curious you felt you had to be honest enough with her to mention my fucking _abortion,_ which is none of her business, but in all the days she's been staying with you, in all the months she's been working for you, and in all the time she's - presumably - been flatbacking for you, you somehow haven't managed to find a single moment during which to mention your own progeny."

Hermione felt sick. "Severus?"

"She's confused," he insisted.

Narcissa laughed bitterly. "I'm not confused. You're in denial."

"There is no proof…" he began. She cut him off.

"I _do_ have proof. Definitive proof. And had you not spent the last six months ignoring my owls and refusing to discuss it in person, I'd have shared the proof with you. But since you're too damn busy, what with having to house your little helper and her family, I suppose I'll simply have to say it flat out now…"

"Narcissa," he said warningly. "Don't."

" _I_ had an abortion," she went on. "But my sister did _not_."

"Narcissa…" He was pleading now, knowing she could read his thoughts as well as he could read hers, silently imploring her to reconsider. "Please, Narcissa, don't."

"It's been eleven years. It's time you stop denying it, Severus."

"Denying what?" asked Hermione, looking from Severus to Narcissa and back.

"I'm not in denial!"

"Miss Granger," said Narcissa. Her cold blue eyes met Hermione's warm brown ones. "At some point Severus will have to introduce you to his daughter."

"Narcissa…" He sounded pained. He was in pain. This caused him pain.

"His daughter," repeated Narcissa. "My niece. Delphini."

* * *

A/N:

Not sure if I'll be able to update Monday as usual (very busy Mon/Tues of this upcoming week) so I wanted to put this one out there today. So... surprising turn, or totally expected? I'd love to know your thoughts! Thanks for reading.

-AL


	22. Fall of a Sparrow

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

 **There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

"She's not mine, Narcissa."

"She's yours, Severus. She has to be. I've eliminated everyone else."

"Not everyone."

"Yes, everyone! Look." Narcissa pulled a small leather bound book from her bag and handed it to Severus, who gave her back the snake's head. "It's Bella's diary. She documented everything, starting a few days after her Azkaban escape through the day before she died. And I do mean _everything_. From her worries that the Dark Lord no longer valued her as he did during the first war to her desire for a child to convincing the Dark Lord that having a baby and raising it in loyal service to him would be enough of an asset of off-set having her out of commission for a few months. She writes of you extensively, mostly negatively, though she says you're better endowed than my husband…" Narcissa pursed her lips. "I don't agree."

"I didn't want to have sex with her," said Severus weakly, ignoring this jab. He made his way to the couch and sank back against the cushions. Hermione followed, sitting beside him, feeling a bit like she was suffering from shock. She flicked her wand, bringing light into the room. Narcissa and Severus stared at each other, having a conversation Hermione couldn't hear, which made her feel like an intruder upon the scene, but when Severus took her hand, his head bowed, she was glad she was there. He repeated, "I didn't want to have sex with her."

"I know, dear," said Narcissa, her voice slightly warmer now. She pulled over the rocking chair, settling across from the couple. She looked older and more tired than either of them had ever seen her. The dim light accentuated the lines forming at the corners of her eyes, and the gray streaks in her hair. Ignoring Hermione's presence entirely, and also putting aside her worry about Lucius, she seized the opportunity to speak with Severus about Delphini, now that it was out in the open.

"From what I've read, the Dark Lord assigned the task to four of you, four men he deemed worthy enough to potentially co-create an acceptable heir with my sister, since her husband was unable to do so. He chose Lucius…" Narcissa shuddered. "You, Rabastan, and Mulciber. He requested each of you spend one night with her, once per month, until the deed was done."

"I didn't have a choice." Severus turned to Hermione. "When the Dark Lord made a request of you, you did not say no. If she _is_ my child, she is not one I fathered willingly."

"Like Hero," Hermione whispered.

"But I don't believe the girl is mine," he insisted, turning back to Narcissa. "I'm quite certain she can't be."

"Bella knew how much you hated it." Narcissa leaned forward to tap the diary in Severus lap with the tip of her wand. The cover opened and the pages turned, seemingly on their own accord, until she waved her wand again, stopping them. "Being with her, I mean. She took detailed notes. Who she slept with, when, how long it lasted, where she was in her ovulation cycle at the time... She was meticulous. Read the left page, starting about halfway down."

Severus and Hermione peered over the page, together deciphering Bellatrix's loopy, sloppy, childish scrawl.

 _Date: 17 April, 1996 (Wednesday)_

 _Time: 23:58_

 _Cycle Point: 4 days into Fertility Window_

 _Partner: Severus Snape, age 36_

 _Duration of Experience: 11 minutes (23:32-23:43)_

 _Duration of Intercourse: 3.5 minutes_

 _Climax: Him- yes / Me- no_

 _Notes: This is the third month with Snape and matters have not improved. He still needs to take a potion in order to be with me. While this loathing is entirely mutual, I can't pretend it doesn't bother me to know he finds me so utterly undesirable he needs liquid assistance just to get it up. I realize, of course, that I am not the woman I was before Azkaban. I see it every time I look in the mirror – My face is too angular, my teeth are yellowed and broken, my hair is brittle, I'm emaciated… But I'm still damn sure better than anyone else who'd ever look at him, that skinny greasy sallow-skinned bastard, so who the fuck does he think he is to be repulsed by me? I begged the Dark Lord to remove him from the rotation but he said, "Severus is intelligent, loyal, physically fit, and a capable wizard. His stoicism will balance well with your passionate nature…" which makes him the top choice, as far as Master is concerned._

"I hate that she calls him Master," Narcissa interrupted. "Like a slave." Severus nodded distractedly. Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust. She couldn't stand the thought of house elves being owned by wizards, never mind witches, not even deplorable ones.

They read on:

 _I feel like a bloody breeding thestral. When I begged Master for a baby upon my Azkaban release this was not what I'd been expecting… or hoping for. I fear I've made a terrible mistake. I can't stand another night like this. Another month like this! I don't know which is worse – that overeager Malfoy pants and paws at me while groaning offensive nonsense in my ear…_

"I enjoyed reading that," Narcissa interjected sarcastically. Hermione bit her lip, unable to stop herself from remembering the offensive nonsense Lucius had whispered to her during that horrible experience. She pushed it from her mind when she felt Narcissa's cold eyes sweeping over her, wishing yet again that she had learned Occlumency. "I know he's a pig," added Narcissa.

They continued reading:

 _Or that Snape barely speaks to me. We don't fully undress. There is little foreplay (he touches me only enough to ensure I'm physically ready), then he keeps his eyes and his mind closed when we're actually together. I wonder what – or whom – he's thinking about. I don't need him to want me (I only need one man to want me) but it would be nice if the overgrown bat didn't treat shagging me like an unpleasant fucking chore he must undertake solely to save his own skin. I have feelings, and just as he did in March and February, he's hurt them. I thought this would get easier with each passing month, but quite the opposite has happened. Every time my cycle comes I am forced to accept that I still haven't conceived and I feel like a failure. Not that I seek Snape's approval, but the disgusted way he regards me makes me feel ugly, and tonight, after his departure, I cried._

"She complains about you the following month, too, also on a Wednesday, but you didn't see her in June…" Narcissa's cheeks reddened. It was that Wednesday in June that she'd ended up getting pissed with Severus, which led to a quick screw on the floor of the drawing room. Her husband had been sent to Azkaban two nights earlier, as had her brother-in-law, his brother, and Mulciber. Subsequently, her sister had gone on the run with the Dark Lord, leaving Narcissa afraid and alone. "I assume she was pregnant by then."

Severus sat silently, processing this. He'd long wondered why Bellatrix had chosen him. He assumed it was another way for her to best him, to exert control, to show that she truly was the most valued follower of the Dark Lord and that what he wanted meant nothing, or maybe she'd selected him for aesthetic purpose, as they were both tall and slim with black hair, brown eyes, and pale skin, since she presumably desired a child who looked like her. Or perhaps, suspecting what he did about the girl's parentage, she'd come up with the plan as a general diversion and had added him to her queue simply to emasculate him, assuming he'd be unable (being only week out of prison, she had no way of knowing ahead of time that he'd developed and sold an arousal potion several years earlier). In all the times he'd wracked his brain trying to discern why she'd demanded the Dark Lord force _him_ into fucking her, it had never once occurred to him that she could, in a sense, be just as powerless in the situation as he was. And he didn't know how to feel about that.

 _"_ _I have feelings… and he's hurt them,"_ Hermione read aloud, trying to wrap her mind around this. How was it possible that the sadistic, evil, and unremorseful woman who could laugh while torturing children and kill without provocation could possibly have had her feelings hurt simply because a man she admittedly hated needed to take an arousal-inducing potion in order to have sex with her – sex neither of them wanted?

"She was an enigma," explained Narcissa, reading Hermione's thoughts. "I don't understand it either. In reading her diary, I've come to learn that I hardly knew her, though I shouldn't have been surprised to realize it. She went to Hogwarts when I was seven, ran away when I was ten, returned when I was seventeen, disappeared underground for most of the first war, went to prison when I was twenty-six, broke out when I was forty, and died two-and-a-half years later. In total, we only knew each other for about a decade, if that."

"Four times," said Severus, glancing at Hermione. "I had to… I had to fulfill that particular task… only four times, on the Dark Lord's orders, under duress. I never even kissed her. I never saw her naked. I treated it like an unpleasant chore because that's what it was." He looked to Narcissa. "As you well know. And despite the reason for our… coupling… I remain genuinely unconvinced that the child is mine."

"She's yours," said Narcissa. "She has to be. I've eliminated the others. You're all that's left."

"Not all," he said. Eager to change the subject, he asked, "What of Lucius? I take it the snake's head by owl was intended as a threat. Are you worried for your safety?"

She raised one eyebrow and regarded Hermione. "Should I be? You tell me."

"I had nothing to do with his disappearance!" Hermione snapped. "You're batty if you think…"

"Shut it. I know you're telling the truth," admitted Narcissa, glaring at her anyway. "Your mind's more open than my sister's bedroom was."

Hermione scowled, clenching her fist around her wand. "If you knew I was telling the truth, why did you call me a liar?"

"If I'm… upset… it's more difficult for me to read people, thus when I arrived a half hour ago, I _did_ think you were lying."

"Why did you think I had something to do with it in the first place?"

"My husband is no Occlumens, so when he assured me _your_ husband came up with the initial plan with your blessing and that you'd recently pressed him for money, I believed him. I believed he was telling me the truth. Now that I'm calm, I don't know what to believe." She bit her lip and tilted her chin, looking to Severus almost apologetically. "Could I have a drink?"

"Do you intend to stay awhile?" he asked, annoyed.

"It has to be a threat, doesn't it?" said Hermione, her brain working fast. Though she despised the woman sitting across from them and though she now felt she and Severus had so much more to talk about (and was therefore glad they'd yet to have sex) she couldn't fight the feeling that this was a bit of a puzzle, like figuring out what was Petrifying students second year or hunting for Horcruxes. And she liked having a mystery to solve, especially if it might require research. It gave her purpose.

"I assume so. Someone must have him. If he's not with you – and it's clear he's not – there must be something wrong." She rubbed her wrist and Severus was momentarily distracted by her attire – long sleeved overcoat, high collar, thick stockings… in late August. He wondered whether she was wearing this to cover up her bruises, as she'd been on Monday. He also wondered whether there were any new ones.

"Are you truly worried about him?" he asked. "I would think having him gone would be a relief."

"I love him, Severus," she said sternly. "But that aside, what if it _is_ a threat? What if the threat is meant for _me_? What if it's meant for the _entire family_? What if my _grandson_ is in danger? Or my _niece_? She leaves for Hogwarts in just over a week; I won't be able to protect her. That's why I came to you straight away, Severus. If we're in danger, I need your help. I…"

"I can't help you."

"You're the only one who can help me! I'll admit, when I arrived on your doorstep, I thought _she_ had something to do with it, that perhaps he hadn't offered enough money, that perhaps she was keeping him captive somehow, prepared to seek ransom, but knowing it must be someone else, that's far more sinister! There must be something you can do."

"You put too much faith in me, Narcissa! I was able to help you with Draco, but this is an entirely different situation, and I'm in a different place. I can barely take the stairs at a decent pace. What makes you think I can be of any help to you, your grandson, or your niece?"

"What makes you so certain your niece belongs to Severus?" asked Hermione. Severus bristled at the return to this topic, but Hermione was wondering whether the two could be connected. If Delphini wasn't her boss's child, perhaps the girl's real father was planning something nefarious – perhaps Lucius wasn't the intended target at all.

"My sister left behind a hair brush. I've been sending out her hair to a Ministry-sanctioned paternity center, once per year so as to avoid suspicion, all under fake names, each paired with one of Delphini's hairs and one from each of the men… the men in the book. I started with Lucius, of course. She's not his, thankfully. Mulciber died in Azkaban but I was able to procure a hair from the head of his son, which wasn't easy, and a comparison showed that his son and Delphini are not half-siblings. I was permitted a visit with Rodolphus in Azkaban under the guise of consulting him about her education, since he was her stepfather, and while I was there I requested permission to see Rabastan. They took me by his cell – money talks – and I plucked a hair from him when he approached the bars. She's not his. That leaves you."

"Not just me," said Severus. "There was another."

"Nonsense! I've read that diary cover to cover more times than I can count. There is no other. Rabastan, Lucius, Mulciber, and you. She wrote that the Dark Lord also considered Yaxley but ultimately dismissed him based on a rumor he had previously received treatment for the clap. Like all good show dog owners, her master wanted to keep his bitch clean." Narcissa said this last bit with intense bitterness, hating how the Dark Lord had practically whored out her sister even though it had been Bella who so desperately wanted a baby.

"I don't think she ever intended to have a child with any of us," said Severus. "I've always suspected that was a diversion, put in place because too many people knew that her husband was unable to father an offspring. She wanted the ambiguity, it was a…" He glanced at Hermione. "An act of self-preservation. I believe the father of her baby is the only man with whom she was ever in love."

"The Dark Lord?" scoffed Narcissa. "No. Not a chance."

"She was in love with the Dark – with Voldemort?" asked Hermione, nearly gagging over the thought of it. "I'd suspected, of course, but surely he could not have returned her affections?"

"I don't believe he loved her," said Severus. "Dumbledore believed Tom Riddle was born incapable of feeling love, but Bellatrix undoubtedly loved him and he likely took advantage of that both emotionally and physically. Why else would he have absconded with her at such a young age?"

"What do you mean, 'absconded with her?'" asked Hermione. Narcissa answered.

"My sister met the Dark Lord when she was thirteen, on a Hogsmeade visit. A year later, midway through her fourth year, after exchanging countless letters, he again met her in Hogsmeade and subsequently disappeared with her. My family didn't see her again until she was twenty-one. In the interim, he taught her all about the Dark Arts and, we suspect, made her his mistress. When she returned, she informed our parents she intended to marry Rodolphus in a month's time. We suspected she was pregnant, but alas…"

Hermione, horrified, looked to Severus for confirmation, which he gave, adding that Voldemort himself was believed to have arranged the Lestranges' marriage.

"That's sick," said Hermione. "He met her as a third year? Took her away at fourteen? He was an adult! She was a child!"

"Sympathy for my psychotic sister?" asked Narcissa. Hermione huffed. Severus shot Narcissa yet another warning look.

"It is my theory – and has always been – that Bellatrix desired _only_ to birth the heir of the Dark Lord, not the child of any of us selected by him. The question is whether Voldemort knew of her intention. Either he did, and together they determined it would be prudent to have her… be physical… with other men as a misdirection in order to protect themselves and the child, or whether he wanted her to have a child fathered by another man, just as he wanted her married to Rodolphus, and she took it upon herself to become impregnated by him instead."

"You're wrong," said Narcissa. "She took notes…"

"I realize that," said Severus impatiently, tapping the cover of the diary in his lap. "But did you consider she was this careful about documentation because she knew exactly what she was doing, and that she would leave out details that pertain to the Dark Lord for the purpose of protecting herself or the child? Why else would she leave this to be read by anyone, unless it has been carefully crafted to create a particular picture?"

Narcissa shook her head, waved her wand, and sat back in the rocking chair, crossing one leg over the other. The pages of the book turned as they had before, stopping when she waved her wand a second time.

 _Date: 14 February, 1996 (Wednesday)_

 _Time: 21:09_

 _In approximately two hours, Severus Snape will arrive and I am to give myself to him sans complaint with the express purpose of reproduction, just as I did Monday with Lucius (the snake) and Tuesday with Rabastan (the toad). I feel sicker over this than I did yesterday or the day before, partly because it's Snape, and partly because it's Valentine's Day, a day that was once so special, so significant, for myself and the Dark Lord, it being the day he took me away from Hogwarts. When Master freed me from Azkaban and brought me here with him, I thought things would go back to the way they were before the fall, but he is changed. Being nearly defeated by the Potter boy has changed him. Or perhaps being imprisoned has changed me and that change has changed him. Whatever it is, whatever the reason, he does not touch me. He has not kissed me or requested sexual satiation from me, not once, and my attempts to initiate such have been harshly rebuffed, most recently on Sunday, the night before my first "mating session" (the fucking humiliation of it!) was to commence. I was in his bed by invitation and he seemed receptive, but when I made to stimulate him he slapped first my hand, then my face, then told me to return to the bed of my husband. I don't understand. Why doesn't my Master want me? I alone looked for him after the incident at Godric's Hollow. I alone remained loyal to him, even on trial! I alone love him. I have always loved him. Why won't he love me? Why won't he make love to me?_

"She was pathetic," said Hermione, as she subconsciously ran her fingertip along the letters forever carved into her forearm. As much as she hated to admit it, Narcissa was right – she was feeling the slightest bit of sympathy for the blonde's psychotic sister.

"Entry after entry like that," said Narcissa. "Right up until the day before she died. The Dark Lord continued to take Bella to bed but he would get angry, violent even, if she attempted to reciprocate. My theory? I don't believe he had enough human left in him to have sex with her, and I think he was too proud, too narcissistic to admit it, so he let her believe it was a matter of her inadequacy rather than his inability."

"You're saying his quest for immortality robbed him of the ability to provide himself an heir, and the next best thing was to hand-pick followers to potentially father a child with his former mistress?" asked Hermione.

"Exactly. A child Bella would raise with complete devotion to him, one whose actual parentage would never be known for certain."

"No," said Severus, who'd gone ghost white, quite the feat considering how pale he was to begin with. "It cannot be. I've spent all these years convinced the girl was the daughter of the Dark Lord, but I didn't tell you because I thought that reality would be more horrifying than wondering… more dangerous for her…"

"She wants to know the identity of her father before she leaves for Hogwarts. That's why I've been pressuring you these last few months, Severus. I'm afraid… I'm afraid she thinks as you did. I'm afraid she thinks her father might be the Dark Lord. And what's worse, I'm afraid that notion brings her great comfort, makes her feel special. I…" Narcissa looked anxiously toward Hermione. "I won't pretend I haven't raised her to feel superior to Muggles and… Muggleborns… and I won't pretend I haven't inflated her mother for her a bit, leaving out the worst and playing up Bella's strengths, and I won't apologize for it, but I never intended for her to fantasize about that monster being her father. And, to be completely candid, of the four possibilities, I'm glad it seems to be you. Insanity runs in the Lestrange family, Mulciber comes from a long line of cruel men, and, for obvious reasons, I didn't want it to be my husband. For Draco to be both her cousin and her half-brother would've been a bit… much." She yawned, stood, and stretched. "I'm exhausted. I haven't slept in days. Since you won't offer me anything to drink and you don't seem to know anything about Lucius' mysterious disappearance, I suppose I should return to Malfoy Manor."

The early summer sun was pouring in through the sitting room curtains, indicating it was around six in the morning.

"Thanks so much for dropping by," Severus said sarcastically, rising to see her out.

"Let me have a strand of your hair? We can settle this for good."

Though he hated to oblige, he plucked out a couple and handed them to her. She slipped them between two pages in the diary, which she also took from him.

"Thank you. In approximately seventy-two hours, I'll have confirmation. And please tell me if you hear from Lucius, or hear anything about him. I know you can't understand it, Severus, but I do love him, and I am worried."

"I understand it," he said. "My mother loved my father."

It suddenly occurred to him that his daughter – _if she was his daughter_ – had likely been raised exposed to the same sort of domestic violence he'd witnessed growing up, and for perhaps the hundredth time in the last couple of weeks, he envisioned himself hexing Malfoy senseless. He hoped wherever the man had disappeared to, he was in pain.

"Farewell, Hermione," said Narcissa from the doorway. "Sorry to have interrupted your… evening."

"Goodbye, Narcissa," said Hermione, coldly but politely. Severus locked the door and replaced the wards as soon as she'd gone.

"All these years," said Severus so softly Hermione almost missed it. "All these years during which I was certain… I saw the girl several times when she was a baby. I brought her medication nicked from Poppy's stores once, when she had thrush. She didn't look like me."

"She looks like her mother now," said Hermione, reflecting on the couple of times she'd seen the girl. She went to him and squeezed his hand, then led him back to the couch. "She's the spitting image of Bellatrix. I can't see you in her at all. So perhaps Narcissa is wrong."

"Perhaps Narcissa is right. What then? What if she _is_ mine?" He turned to Hermione, worry etched across his thin face. "I've ignored her, denied her since she was born. She'll hate me as much as her mother did. And I… I cannot be a father. I'm not father material. That's why I needed Narcissa to take that abortion potion, even though I knew it wasn't what she wanted. I cannot have children. My own father was a terrible man, a terrible father. What if I am exactly the same? Besides, I don't know the first thing about… about them. About children."

"You taught school for nearly twenty years, Severus," said Hermione. "And you're wonderful with my children. I think you're selling yourself short."

"I can't raise her, Hermione. I can't claim her. I can't care for a child conceived that way. I…"

"Now you know how I felt about Hero before she was born," she interjected. "But you see your child for the person she is, and the part of her she gets from you, and the rest doesn't matter, you love her regardless. Trust me."

"Hermione," he said, detesting himself for the question he was about to ask, but unable to stop it from exiting his mouth. "What if I can't?"

She didn't have a response to that. After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Severus announced that he was going down to his lab to brew. She offered to assist him, but he insisted she return to bed to try to get a couple hours sleep before the children woke.

She couldn't imagine sleeping in his bed without him in it, so she after changing back into pajamas, she crawled in between Helena and Henry in the small bed in Severus' childhood room, across from the crib. She considered shrinking his dresser then transfiguring the bed to make it wider, but as soon as her head hit the pillow she realized she was too fatigued to bother. Henry cuddled up to her in his sleep, resting his head on her chest to hear her heartbeat. To her other side, Helena was snoring lightly, hugging her ragdoll to her chin. Across from them, baby Hero sleep peacefully, one of her tiny feet poking through the bars of the crib, her thumb popped in her mouth. Hermione drifted off while staring at her daughter, the baby she hadn't wanted, but now wouldn't trade for all the galleons in Gringotts.

Down in the basement lab, Severus collected ingredients for a potion he'd relied on heavily during the first years of his home recuperation – an unnamed anti-depressant, his own variation of the old Pepper Up potion he used to teach his students – which helped to stave off madness brought on by melancholy. It, like the pain potion, was highly addictive, but in the moment, he did not care.

He'd been certain – _so fucking certain_ – for over a decade that Delphini had been fathered by the Dark Lord, either with his knowledge or as part of Bella's secret plan, so to know now that this was unlikely, that the girl could very well be his…

He'd also been certain – _so fucking certain_ – that Bellatrix had been the one to request him for the job, presumably at least in part to hurt him, so now to know she hadn't wanted it either, and that he had actually inadvertently managed to hurt her…

His stomach swirled. He hoped his dinner would not be making a reappearance.

The girl couldn't be his. She couldn't be. He couldn't have fathered the daughter of Bellatrix Black Lestrange.

Bellatrix Black Lestrange, who, apparently, had feelings.

Feelings he hurt.

By not being attracted to her.

By needing to take a potion to 'get it up.'

On the nights he was forced to have sex with her.

He shook his head, summoned over a cauldron, and lit a fire under it. As he brewed, he replayed Narcissa's visit over and over again in his mind. He couldn't muster up even a bit of curiosity or concern over what had happened to Malfoy, where he'd gone, why someone had sent Narcissa the head of his cane. He was too consumed by shame and sickness over the situation.

And anger.

Misplaced anger.

At Hermione.

He hated himself for it, but he was angry with Hermione.

She should have just let him die.

* * *

 **A/N:**

To answer a Q from a guest, the reason Hermione can't just summon food is because it's a violation of Gamp's Law, as described in Deathly Hallows. You can't conjure up food, though you can increase quantity, though, honestly, I ignored the second part of that because it's convenient, and also because if it's possible to simply multiply food and have it taste the same, why wouldn't every witch or wizard just buy one of each food item and multiply it over and over? :)

Reviews aren't appearing right now (currently at least 7 are missing) due to a glitch with the site but I am receiving them in my email so if you have any Qs and are logged in when you review I can PM you.

Thanks!

 **-AL**


	23. A Piece of Work

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

 **What a piece of work is man.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Hermione overslept. Helena overslept. Hero overslept.

But Henry?

Henry was practically up with the sun. Shortly after his mother got into bed, he got out. He rummaged around in the blankets for his stuffed dinosaur, then headed down the hall to the room where he knew the professor slept.

It was empty.

But the bed was big, so before continuing his search he climbed up on it and jumped, landing on his bottom, giggling madly. He didn't notice when his dinosaur got lost between the pillows under the mess of blankets. He belly flopped a couple of times, landed on his bum several more, and even attempted a 'cartwheel' like he'd seen Helena do once, but for him that mostly consisted of putting his hands down, kicking his feet, and falling over.

When that got dull, he headed toward the loo. He did his best not to pee all over the place, since his mother hated when he did that (he couldn't help it. Sometimes when he had to 'go,' he also had to dance) and he remembered to flush. Then he stood on the closed toilet seat so he could reach the sink to wash his hands. He often forgot to wash his hands, but knowing he was about to disobey a direct order from his mum, he figured he ought to at least try to be a good boy on the way down.

He took the stairs on his bum, sliding from one to the next, all the way to the first floor. He looked for Professor Snape in the sitting room, in the kitchen, and even in the garden. He wasn't anywhere.

But there was an open door the boy hadn't noticed before.

A door that led to more stairs. It looked dark down there.

Cautiously, curiously, Henry made his way down. Sliding, sliding, sliding on his bum.

When he reached the bottom, he looked around. The room was long, longer than the rest of the house, and dimly lit. There were two long tables down the center, evenly spaced, like train tracks. There was a green-tinted fire burning under a large black cauldron, the kind he'd only ever seen in the big Diagon Alley store and never in use.

Why was the fire green?

Fire only turned green when you were traveling by Floo Powder.

He crept closer.

Something was simmering. It smelled good, but not quite like food. He could hear a faint popping sound. Perhaps whatever was in the cauldron had started to bubble.

There was a chair between the two tables, facing the cauldron. He crawled up on it. From this position on his knees he could see the flames better. They weren't green. Not really. They were yellow and blue. Distinct yellow and blue flames, flickering together, making them look green from a distance.

He'd never seen blue flames before, not even in a fireplace.

He reached out his hand to touch them. Would they be hot, like the red-orange fires Mum lit to keep warm in the winter, or would they feel like a flickering tickle, the way the flames in the Floo Network felt?

His fingers were nearly touching the flames, the blue flames. While he could feel the heat emanating from the yellow, the blue, even from this distance, seemed to be ice cold. But that didn't make sense. Whoever heard of ice cold fire?

Just a little closer…

"Henry!"

Professor Snape's harsh bark startled the boy, making him fall right off the chair and onto the hard cement floor.

Though it didn't hurt too bad, he'd been frightened, and so he started to cry.

Severus rushed to him, limping slightly, and lifted the boy into his arms.

"What were you doing? Are you hurt?"

"Pofessah scay-ed me!" answered Henry.

"I scared you?" asked Severus, examining the boy's fingertips, which were blackened slightly even though he hadn't made contact with the freezing flames. "You scared me! You must not touch that. You never touch blue fire! You could have been very badly hurt! What are you doing down here? Where is your mother?"

"Seeping," said Henry. Distracted by the black marks on his fingers, he stopped crying. He moved to pop them in his mouth, but Severus held his wrist and carried him into the small storeroom in search of Essence of Murtlap, which he then applied to the boy's first two fingers.

"Never touch anything in a potions lab unless you know what it is and what it does," said Severus sternly, still cradling the boy in his arms.

"I'm sowwy," said Henry. "What's a poe-sins lab?"

Severus sighed. He had come down here to be alone, to be alone with his thoughts, with his shame. With his anger. He hadn't come down here with the intention of educating a damn toddler.

But the boy was looking at him so earnestly, how could he say no?

"A potions lab is… Let's begin at the beginning. Do you know what potions are?"

Henry nodded. "For when you sick!"

"They're not… there's more… it's a bit more involved than that."

Over the next fifteen minutes, while the anti-depressant was simmering, Severus explained the basics to the boy, who seemed enthralled, though whether he was genuinely interested in potions or just enjoyed the one-on-one attention from the professor it was hard to say. When it was time to add the next ingredient to the cauldron – powdered moonstone – Severus held Henry and let him dump it in. The cauldron hissed as the contents turned from maroon to deep purple. Henry gasped.

"Is like magic!"

"Yes," said Severus, smiling despite his foul mood. "Exactly like magic."

While they sat and waited for the hourglass to indicate ten minutes had passed (at which time they could put in the final ingredient, diced lacewing flies) Henry peppered the professor with questions.

"Why a fire blue?"

"Why a cauldwon big?"

"Why a poe-sins lab dahk?"

"Why a moonstone pow-dah?"

"Why you make a poe-sin?"

Severus did his best to answer. For that last one, he reiterated his earlier lesson about how potions have all different uses, and then explained that this particular one was to make sad people feel less sad.

"Pofessah sad?"

"Yes, Henry."

"Why pofessah sad?"

Severus shook his head. "Don't you worry over it."

They sat in silence for several seconds. The hourglass was nearly empty.

"Pofessah? You has a mum?"

"Not anymore, Henry. She died."

"That why Pofessah's sad?"

"No," said Severus. "I was sad about my mum's death a long time ago, but I'm not sad about it now."

"Pofessah has a dad?"

"No," said Severus. "And I'm not sad to be without him."

"I'm sad," said Henry. "I has no dad."

"I know," said Severus.

"You has a kid?" asked Henry.

"No," lied Severus, but he couldn't help picturing baby Delphini, the day he brought her the medication for thrush, and feeling guilty because perhaps a part of him knew then... he simply didn't want to know.

-0-0-0-

 _It was the end of August. He was about to officially begin his tenure as Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Charity had been killed a few days before. The Boy Who Lived was on the run. The Dark Lord was in control._

 _The world was a dark, dark place._

 _Despite that, and despite not feeling well, Delphini Black was a bubbly, happy baby._

 _When Severus entered the room Bellatrix was sharing with the Dark Lord at Malfoy Manor, she was just finishing nursing the six-month-old. She greeted Severus in her usual bitchy fashion, by insulting him in a way she hoped would be emasculating, then burped the girl. Once done, she sat the baby in her lap, facing Severus. He prepared to administer the medication._

 _"Isn't she beautiful, Severus?" Bellatrix asked. "Isn't she the most beautiful baby you've ever seen?"_

 _"I haven't seen many babies," answered Severus dryly. The girl gurgled and reached toward him, her eyes wide and bright. She instantly liked this man, liked him much more than the red-eyed monster who sometimes loomed over her crib._

 _"She's always smiling," said Bellatrix._

 _As if on cue, the baby grinned toothlessly at Severus._

 _He ignored her._

 _"You can hold her," said Bellatrix. "If you'd like."_

 _"No, I'd rather not."_

 _"But look how lovely she is!"_

 _"I could not care much less." He sighed. "I have no desire to hold any baby, least of all yours."_

 _"Suit yourself." Bellatrix pouted over his disinterest. She hadn't been able to show the girl off much, since precious few were allowed to know the child even existed, which was driving her batty even though Master said it was for the best. "But she's perfection."_

 _He pulled gently down on Delphini's chin with his thumb and forefinger, opening her mouth. "She's got white patches in her mouth."_

 _"I told you in my letter, it's thrush." Bellatrix narrowed her heavy-lidded eyes at him. "She'll be fine. Give her the medication."_

 _"Thrush is typically caused by a yeast infection, passed from mother to child during feeding," said Severus. "I brought a potion for you, too, to apply directly to your…" His gaze darted down to her chest. She cocked an eyebrow. "I was surprised Poppy even had any, but it turns out the same concoction is used for girls with similar… infections."_

 _"You say_ infections _as if I did something to deserve this, Snape, as if it's a punishment, but it you're wrong. And fuck off if you think otherwise. I'm not a slag."_

 _"Did I call you a slag?"_

 _Bellatrix reddened, though he wasn't sure whether it was with anger or embarrassment. "I believe it was implied."_

 _When he placed the drops on the girl's tongue, she fussed a bit, but as soon as he pulled away she smiled again, reaching for him. Again, he ignored her._

 _"I think she likes you," said Bellatrix. "Ah well. She's only six months old. Can't yet expect her to have developed good taste in men."_

 _"Tell me, Bellatrix…" Severus handed her the potions vial. "Are you planning to send the girl to Hogwarts when she turns eleven, or will the Dark Lord be taking charge of her… education?"_

 _"I don't know what you mean," said Bellatrix, bristling._

 _"He taught you everything you know, did he not? That's what you're always telling the rest of us. I'm merely curious about how much of what he taught you he intends to teach your daughter."_

 _"Fuck off," said Bellatrix, her eyes filling with furious tears. The sleeplessness and hormonal imbalances of motherhood were making her… emotional. "I know what you're insinuating."_

 _"I'm glad you picked up on it," said Severus. "Though not surprised. You're reasonably intelligent and I wasn't exactly subtle."_

 _"He's not going to touch her," Bellatrix insisted. "Not like that. He loves her. Like a father."_

 _"Oh? And how does he love you? Like a…" He let the end of the sentence hang, his lip curled into a snarl as he rose to glare down at the contemptuous woman before him. "Excuse me, I've just remembered. He doesn't."_

 _"He's as in love with me as I am with him," she insisted, but he could tell he'd hit a nerve. The arrogant expression she usually wore had dissipated, and just as her sister did when nervous, she was chewing her lower lip._

 _"Is he?" asked Severus, unable to let it drop. "Has he told you so?" When she looked away, hugging her baby more tightly, he smirked. "I didn't think so."_

 _"You don't know the first thing about my relationship with him," she hissed, resuming eye contact, her eyes full of unmitigated hatred for the man she considered her greatest competitor for the role of Most Loyal Follower, a title she was certain he did not deserve._

 _"I know if she were my daughter, I wouldn't feel comfortable raising her within grasp of the man who first took you to bed when you were… how old? Twelve?"_

 _"Thirteen."_

 _"A child."_

 _"I was not like other children." She tossed her hair haughtily. "I was considerably more mature."_

 _"You must have been," he agreed in a cruelly mocking tone. "To have completed your Hogwarts education in less than four years when most students need the whole seven. Tell me, do you expect your offspring to be a prodigy too?"_

 _"I'm glad she's not yours," snapped Bellatrix. "I've researched. I know your father was a dirty Muggle. With my dear cousin Sirius most unfortunately dead, my Delphini's the last of the Black family line, and I'm happy not to see it sullied by a Mudblood."_

 _"If she is considered a continuation of the Black family line, so must be her cousins, Draco and Nymphadora."_

 _The baby squirmed and whimpered, sensing the vitriol permeating the air in the room, and wanting to escape it._

 _"Draco is a Malfoy and Nymphadora does not exist, as far as our family is concerned. Only Delphini is a Black, because she's mine and mine alone."_

 _"So what's the Dark Lord to her then? Her stepfather? No, silly me, that would be Rodolphus, wouldn't it? Rodolphus Lestrange, the man your master made you marry because he didn't wish to claim you himself. Why is that, Bellatrix? After he went through all the trouble of taking you out of school and teaching you everything you needed to know, why was he so keen to see you wed to another man? Odd behavior for someone you believe to be in love with you."_

 _"Fuck you, Snape."_

 _"Thank you," he said calmly. "But I've had enough of fucking you to last me a lifetime."_

 _She raised her wand, prepared to send the Cruciatus his way should he not obey her next command. "Get out."_

 _"With pleasure."_

 _He glanced at the girl once more before exiting. She had pale skin, impossibly dark brown eyes, and a tuft of black hair, like him, but her face was round, her cheeks were pink, and she had the teeniest button nose he'd ever seen. Aside from her eyes, her complexion, and her hair, she looked nothing like him. And Bellatrix has said she wasn't his. He briefly wondered whose she was, but ultimately, it didn't matter. She was a Black, to be raised by Bellatrix in loyal service to the Dark Lord, and nothing more._

 _He hurried from the room, ignoring the sound of Bellatrix dissolving into quiet sobs, supressing the inexplicable feeling of guilt building inside him._

 _That was the last time he saw his daughter._

-0-0-0-

"Why Pofessah sad?" asked Henry, dragging Severus back into the present. "Why Pofess…"

"It's time to add the final ingredient," Severus interrupted gruffly, feeling sickened by the memory. He tapped the top of the empty hourglass. Together, he and Henry dumped the lacewing flies into the cauldron. Henry shrieked with delight when a cloud of purple steam shot up toward the ceiling. The potion lightened, becoming a pale wisteria, which meant it was finally ready; it only needed to cool. He waved his wand, which made the flames disappear, much to Henry's disappointment.

"Now, we wait."

-0-0-0-

At Malfoy Manor, Delphini Black, age eleven, was packing for her first year at Hogwarts. She'd awoken early, as usual, had breakfast alone, as usual, and gotten herself ready for the day with the help of a house elf, as usual.

Though she knew it was silly (and was glad no one was around to see) she hugged each of her textbooks before placing them in her trunk. Then she checked them off her list, terrified she'd forget something important and have to wait for it to be owled to her, no doubt accompanied by a Howler from her perfectionist aunt who'd scold her for being neglectful.

Delphini was, in some ways, a meticulous, organized girl, like her mother. She kept a diary and made lists, wrote notes in all of her textbooks, which she'd read already even though she'd only had them a month, and she was obsessive about polishing the glass on her picture frames so that dust would not obscure the images in the photographs, most of which featured her mother as a young girl. Her bookshelves were arranged carefully by subject matter and author's last name and she couldn't sleep if even a single one was out of place. When she felt anxious, sometimes, she would go into the library and knock books to the floor at random, just so she had something to pick up and reorganize, over and over and over again.

She was, in other ways, a veritable tornado, leaving destruction in her wake, also like her mother. Her dirty clothes and robes littered her bedroom floor, so much so that she sometimes ran out of things to wear, even though all she had to do was place the items in the laundry chute beyond her hamper so that they could be cleaned and returned to her wardrobe. Her porcelain doll collection often found itself scattered around Malfoy Manor, as she'd choose a doll to carry around all day until ultimately it got forgotten in the drawing room or kitchen or garden, much to her aunt Narcissa's annoyance, and she wasn't the best about personal hygiene – if her aunt didn't force her to brush her hair each day she'd be content to let her wild curls form a greasy rats' nest on her head.

Appearance was important to her, but only to a point. She wanted to have the best of everything, the best dresses, the best jewelry, the best hairstyles… but only whenever they were out in public or had important guests. She wanted other girls her age to see her and simply _know_ she was better, more loved, from a well-respected, well-off family. She wanted to make her mother proud, even though she knew that was silly, since it wasn't as though the woman could still see her, and Narcissa insisted the best way to represent Bellatrix and the Black family line was to always look her best when they were out in the Wizarding world. She wanted to be special and for everyone to know she was special. She couldn't wait to get to Hogwarts, the school where her mother had been deemed so brilliant she'd completed her education an unprecedented three and a half years early… At least, that's what her aunt Narcissa had said.

Before she got to school, though, she needed to know for certain the identity of her father. She had to. She was certain the other students would ask, especially in Slytherin, the House into which she was determined to be sorted. She didn't tell her aunt, but she was secretly terrified the Sorting Hat would know her father's identity and call her by his last name, that she'd learn his identity while sitting on a stool in front of the entire school, and then the other students would either be horrified to learn it was, as she suspected, the Dark Lord himself, or she'd be humiliated for them to discover it was someone embarrassing… like her uncle, Lucius, or worse, that traitor and former professor Severus Snape, the man her uncle loathed… the man her uncle recently accused her aunt of having had an affair with.

Delphini winced, unable to stop herself from hearing her aunt's tearful pleas in her head.

"Please... Lucius... stop... Please, understand... It was one time… it was for Draco… I didn't have a choice!"

Lucius usually sent Delphini out of the room before becoming physical with his wife, but on this day he'd been too angry to even acknowledge her presence. She and her aunt had been having tea in the parlor, discussing the last few things they needed to pick up before school started. He'd entered in a rage, grabbed Narcissa by the arm, forced her to the floor, and struck her across the face with the head of his walking stick. He called her names Delphini had never heard before, pulled her hair, kicked her repeatedly, and made her cry. He had just pinned her down on her back on the floor when he looked up and saw his niece, ghost white, her back pressed against the wall of the parlor.

"To your room," he ordered. She did not move. Though he'd never hurt her, he raised his wand threateningly. "To your room, now!"

"Go on," said Narcissa calmly, as if she and Lucius were merely having a conversation. "I'll be in to finish the list with you later."

Delphini had hurried out. She'd slammed her bedroom door.

She couldn't wait to get to Hogwarts.

-0-0-0-

When Hermione awoke to find Henry missing, she did not panic as she had the last time. She called his name, checked in the closet and under the bed, and carried Hero with her toward the loo. She peeked in Severus' bedroom to find it empty, then headed downstairs, with Helena on her heels. She looked in the sitting room, kitchen, and garden, calling his name. She was just starting to worry when she heard a shriek and a giggle from the direction of the basement stairs.

"Stay here," she ordered Helena as she placed Hero on the floor. "Watch your sister."

Hermione hurried quietly down the stairs, worried about what she'd find, but she needn't have been. Severus was standing before a pewter cauldron with Henry on his hip, instructing the boy to slowly drip a vial of something-or-other into their brewing concoction. Midway down the table, a second cauldron was giving off a light bit of purple smoke.

"Again!" demanded Henry, grinning. Severus lifted a small glass container with his free hand and dumped the contents into the cauldron, sending tiny silent fireworks into the air. Henry shrieked delightedly and applauded.

"What's going on?" asked Hermione. Severus was startled, having not heard her approach.

"We bwewing ice mice!" announced Henry. "Is candy!"

"They won't be moldable into mice for a few days," Severus reminded him. "This is merely step one."

"Pofessah was sad," said Henry. "Now, happy!"

"Happier," agreed Severus, though Hermione could still see the pain in his eyes. "And hungry. Why don't we let this simmer and have breakfast?"

"It's nearly time for lunch," said Hermione. "I'll make scotch eggs. You two can finish down here."

When they were almost finished eating, Hermione set down her pumpkin juice and turned her gaze toward Severus.

"I've been thinking… with Mr. Malfoy missing, I don't believe I'm in any immediate danger. I'm not sure I ever was. The wards on my home are stronger now, and I believe I'm ready to return there. I also think… I think perhaps we've been… rushing unnecessarily."

"Rushing what?" he asked coolly.

"You know what. Rushing into being… more than… into being…" She sighed, unable to be clearer so long as her little ones were present. "After we've cleaned up the kitchen, I'll take the children upstairs to pack. Severus? We can still be… friends… but I think I need the long weekend to figure out the future, since my sitter will be returning to school soon, I don't think I'm ready for… for anything significant now… and… I'm not sure how long you'll need me…"

"I need you," he said in a clipped voice.

"I'll return on Monday, at the regular time, to work, and we can talk more then. If that's alright?"

"If that's what you want," he said. He rose and carried his plate to the sink, along with those of Henry and Helena, as they'd both finished eating. "I'm going back to my lab to brew. It's a complicated potion that requires quiet and concentration. Send a Patronus to let me know when you've returned home, so I know when I'm alone in the house."

"Severus, wait…" She stood, prepared to follow him, but he held up a hand.

"I shall see you on Monday." He glanced at the children and felt a tug in his chest. He did not want to say goodbye… The truth was, he'd been thinking too, and as upset as he'd briefly been with her this morning, he'd been thinking of asking her to stay… permanently… with him. "Don't worry about the kitchen. I'll clean it up later. It'll be good for me to get used to doing things for myself again. Scowling, he headed toward the door.

"Pofessah?"

"Yes, Henry?" He turned back.

Henry screwed up his brow, looking over the man with concern. "Pofessah sad now?"

"It's not for you to worry about, Henry." Severus stepped forward, tousled his hair, and glanced at Hermione. "I shall see you on Monday."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be," he said. He meant it genuinely, to reassure her all was going to be alright, but it came out rougher than intended, and her eyes filled with tears.

"Come along, children. We have to pack."

"Why, Mummy?"

"Because, Henry. We're going home."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Sorry, sort of a sadder chapter here, but I hope you all enjoyed the cute Severus/Henry stuff. Please don't judge Severus too harshly in the flashback. After all, at that point he thought Bella was behind his being forced to try to procreate with her, so he was harboring some pretty negative feelings toward her and her child. Thanks to everyone who reviewed Chapter 22! Don't worry, happier times are ahead. Soon. I promise! Thx again!

- **AL**


	24. The Slings and Arrows

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR**

 **Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune...**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Hermione felt terrible about leaving Severus the way she did, but she hoped he could understand that it was an act of self-preservation, and she hoped he would forgive her.

"Pofessah comes for dinnah?" asked Henry on Sunday night. He'd asked every night as soon as she started cooking. Every night, she answered the same way.

"No, I'm sorry Henry, he can't tonight."

Henry, as usual, was disappointed to hear this.

"I want Pofessah come for dinnah," he said.

"I know, Lovey."

"I miss Pofessah."

"Oh, Henry." She picked him up and wrapped him in a hug. "I know. I do too. We'll see him again soon, okay? We're just… taking a break."

"Time Away?" Henry was confused. Whenever his mother told him to 'take a break,' what she really meant was that he needed to sit in Time Away. Time Away was for bad behavior. What had Professor done bad?

"Try not to worry about it." Hermione kissed his forehead and set him on the floor. She turned back to the stove. "Can you help your sister set the table?"

-0-0-0-

The first night without Hermione and the children in his home was the hardest. It was sort of odd, considering they'd only been there a couple of nights, to feel so empty without them, but he did.

When he crawled into bed that night, it was to find Henry's dinosaur between his pillows. He sighed and set it atop the pillow Hermione had used, which still smelled of her.

He fell asleep thinking of Hermione and awoke after having a nightmare about Delphini, his daughter.

His daughter.

Even without the results of the test Narcissa was having done, he knew in his heart she was his. He knew it as soon as he learned that the Dark Lord had been unable to have sex with Bellatrix. She was his, the creation of him and his enemy, conceived against his will, raised not knowing him.

She would be leaving for Hogwarts in just over a week.

How could he possibly develop a relationship with her now?

-0-0-0-

"If I knew the identity of your father, and it were someone you wouldn't want it to be, would you still want to know?" Narcissa asked Delphini over tea on Saturday afternoon.

"I think so," said Delphini. "It's the Dark Lord, isn't it? My mother loved him. That Daily Prophet ten year anniversary article said it was believed that she loved him. And she loved me. Did he love me?"

Narcissa sighed. "Your mother did love him, Delphini… but he was… he was incapable of loving her. And he… he was incapable of giving her the baby she so desperately wanted. He's not your father."

"How can you be sure?" Delphini tried to look as though she didn't care, but her aunt didn't need Legilimency to know she was crestfallen. "If she loved him…"

"He couldn't give her a baby, Delphini. It's not him."

"It has to be!" Delphini set down her china cup and saucer. "Who else could it be, Auntie? She loved him, and she loved me, and he…"

"It's not him," Narcissa interrupted definitely. She wished she hadn't let the girl labor in this delusion for so long. That was her fault. "I'm sorry."

"But… then… who?"

-0-0-0-

On Sunday night, after putting the children to bed, Hermione could not sleep. She made herself a mug of soothing chamomile tea and paced the sitting room. She would be seeing Severus again in a few hours time and she had no idea what to say to him.

-0-0-0-

Fuck pain potion. Getting drunk made him just as numb and came with the added bonus of dulling the emotional pain he otherwise could not escape. He made firewhiskey his friend and subsequently spent the weekend getting to know the potent liquor on a new level. He'd never been much of a drinker in his younger years. Too dangerous. Drunks talk. And he had far too many secrets to keep.

Now, though, it didn't matter.

He might as well get pissed.

-0-0-0-

"Is it Rodolphus Lestrange after all?" asked Delphini, referring to her mother's husband.

"No," said Narcissa. "This would all be much easier if it were."

"Did she have a… a boyfriend, then?" Delphini toyed with the hem of her dress. Even though she only had one clear memory of her mother, she loved her unconditionally, and it felt inappropriate to be asking a question like this of the woman who birthed her.

"No," said Narcissa quietly. "She loved the Dark Lord, but she wanted a baby, so…" Narcissa bit her lip, trying to decide how much to reveal to the eleven-year-old. "So she and the Dark Lord hand-picked someone they thought would make a suitable father for you, though they planned to raise you themselves, without him."

Yes, that would suffice.

"They chose a father for me? Did she marry him?"

"Oh, Delphini." Narcissa opened her arms and the girl, despite being too big to do so, crawled into her aunt's lap. "We talked about where babies come from."

"The man and the woman do… _it_ …"

"Have sex…"

"During the week that she's oval-ating…"

"Ovulating…"

"And then, when her egg is formalized…"

"Fertilized…"

"The baby is created. It grows in the womb for forty weeks and then comes out the… you know."

"The vagina."

Delphini shuddered. The idea of anything coming out of there… or going in, for that matter… seemed impossibly and unfathomably gross.

"They don't have to be married, Delphini. You know that."

"But they're supposed to be?"

Narcissa hugged the girl more tightly. "It's preferred, especially in pureblood wizarding families, where we have to think about protecting the genealogical line, but it's just as easy to get pregnant when unwed as it is when married. Your grandmother – my mother – was pregnant before she got married. Your mother was born only five months after my parents' wedding. It happens."

"But aren't you supposed to wait until your married to have… you know."

"Sex."

"Right, that."

"As I said, it's preferred."

"My father… is he married?"

"No," answered Narcissa. "He's never been married. He has no other children. Only you."

"Does he want me?"

The tip of Narcissa's nose tingled, indicating she might cry. She couldn't stand it when one of her children was in pain. She'd rather be beaten a thousand times by her husband or be Unforgivably Cursed by the Dark Lord himself than watch either her son or her niece hurt.

"Auntie Cissy?"

"I don't know, my darling girl. But your mother wanted you, and that's what's important."

"Do you want me, Auntie?" Delphini asked, sounding much younger than she had in years. Heading to Hogwarts was exciting, but it also had her feeling scared and vulnerable. What if everyone hated her for who her mother was… or feared her for who her father was believed to be? "Do you want me, or did you get stuck with me?"

"Though a part of me resented having to start all over again with raising a child, I _chose_ to keep you," Narcissa answered honestly. "Your stepfather wanted you placed with Euphemia Rowle. I let you live there for a couple of months after the Final Battle, but ultimately, I couldn't stand it and I took you back. I chose to keep you and I'm glad you're mine."

"Yours, and my father's," whispered Delphini. "I want to know him. Who is he?"

-0-0-0-

Hermione missed him. She liked him. She desired him.

She missed the way he'd tease her, utilizing a mix of puns and innuendo, sometimes biting but never cruel.

She liked the way he was with the children, firm but fun, teaching but not lecturing, communicating on their level without condescending.

She desired him in a way she never would've thought possible – he was, after all, her former professor – but the better she got to know him, the more about him turned her on: the way his eyes darkened when he was aroused, the deep, sensual timbre of his voice, his slightly calloused hands, his broad, soft shoulders… while she was glad Narcissa had interrupted their intimate encounter a few nights prior, she also had no doubt they'd end up back in bed together sooner or later, and she was looking forward to it.

But she was afraid.

She was afraid to fall too fast.

She'd fallen in love with Reginald too fast. Too fast to catch the signs that something was wrong. Too fast to realize that wanting her to cut off contact with friends and coworkers should have been a warning, not indicative of a healthy adult romance. Too fast to realize he was intent upon trapping her, keeping her, owning her as one would a possession, not a lover.

She's also fallen in love with Ronald too fast. Too fast to accept that they weren't truly meant to be, that they were too different, that they would have done best to simply remain platonically involved. Too fast to consider that a whirlwind teenage romance was not a good foundation for a lifetime together. Too fast to consider that their differences would destroy them eventually, and with the dissolution of their marriage, ruin their friendship.

How could she know that this thing with Severus, whatever it may be, wouldn't be the same? How could she be certain they wouldn't end up hurting each other, and, in the process, her children? And what of his child?

She couldn't risk it. It was too great a risk.

If they wanted the possibility of a future together, they had to take things slowly.

She refused to fall in love too fast.

-0-0-0-

Severus never cried. He had given that up when he was a boy. His father said crying was for girls and bitches – and by "bitches," he meant boys who acted like girls. When Severus was eight, he stepped between his parents during a fight and was thrown aside by his father, who then told him he had to sit and watch while his mother was punished for having "flirted with" another man in public, though she swore she'd only smiled at him because he'd smiled at her first and it seemed polite. Severus had sat silently in a kitchen chair, tears streaming freely down his pale cheeks, while his father berated and beat his mother.

After that, his father turned on him.

"You little bitch!" he said, grabbing young Severus by the scruff of his neck. Tobias Snape thrust the boy toward his mother. "See what you've done? You've made the boy soft." He threw him to the kitchen floor. "For every tear you shed, I'll hit your mother," said his father viciously. Severus shuddered. He could smell the alcohol on his father's breath even from his position on the floor and he knew the threat was a valid one. He wiped the tears from his eyes and forced himself to swallow any others. He never again cried in front of his parents.

He didn't cry again at all until he was twenty-one years old.

That was when he discovered Lily Evans, his childhood best friend, dead on the nursery floor in her Godric's Hollow home. He held her and rocked her and sobbed unapologetically while her one-year-old son wailed in the crib behind them.

He cried once more after that, nearly seventeen years later, when he lay dying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. He let a couple of tears fall as he looked into the eyes of Harry James Potter, the same eyes Lily had, when he gave up his memories.

And he cried now.

In bed, drunk, holding that stupid stuffed dinosaur he'd given Henry, he cried.

-0-0-0-

Monday morning, just after breakfast, Hermione was doing dishes when someone knocked at her door. It was a rainy day, so the children, who'd awoken ridiculously early, were in the sitting room watching a movie on the telly and playing with their toys.

She peeked out to see none other than Narcissa Malfoy on her doorstep. She opened the door.

"What do you want?" she asked rudely, not granting the older woman entrance.

"See this picture?" asked Narcissa, holding up a photograph of herself, careful to keep it under the protection of her umbrella and Impervious charm so it would not get wet.

In the photograph, she was approximately thirty years of age, wearing an ornate witch's robe over a form-fitting dress with diamond jewelry, with her long blonde hair swept to the side. "This is my favorite picture. I think I look very pretty in this picture. This is the picture Draco gave to the Healers at St. Mungo's when I needed a reconstructive procedure to fix my face after my husband so helpfully rearranged it for me."

"He rearranged your face?"

"He hit me repeatedly with the snake's head of his walking stick, shattering my cheekbone, slicing open my lip, bruising my eyes, and breaking my nose."

Hermione gasped, horrified. "Why?"

"Why?" Narcissa laughed bitterly. "Because after we left your home and returned to ours, I told him I didn't want him to sleep with you. He said it wasn't my place to object. We had a massive, vicious row, during which I lost my temper and slapped him, which only infuriated him more. An hour or so later my son had to transport me to St. Mungo's because I was too weak to apparate. It was the worst beating I've ever sustained, and that's saying something. By the time you and your husband came to my home a couple of weeks later, I hated you as I've never hated anyone. I blamed you, in part because I was told the arrangement had been your idea, and in part because I was jealous on account of how… how badly my husband wanted you. He hasn't… _wanted me_ … in well over a decade. He only takes me when no one when is available or or when he's angry and wishes to remind me of my powerlessness."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Hermione in a whisper. She did not want the children to hear.

"You hate me."

"So?"

"I have decided I don't want you to hate me."

"What? Why?"

"I… I love Severus," Narcissa admitted, avoiding Hermione's eye. "But he doesn't love me, and it doesn't matter anyway because even if he did, I am unable to leave my husband. I went to Spinner's End and saw him this morning, as soon as I received the results of Delphini's paternity test. He is… not well. In the interest of… of doing what's best for him… and for my niece… I thought perhaps we could set aside our mutual… _dislike_ … and have a civil conversation."

"Come in," said Hermione, opening the door. "Tea?"

"Wine is better."

"It's nine-thirty in the morning."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Tea then."

Hermione glanced at the children, who were so enthralled in the video they hadn't noticed their guest.

"Merlin's beard!" gasped Narcissa, squinting her eyes at the telly, having never seen one before. "What sort of magic is this?"

"Muggle magic," answered Hermione with a chuckle. "If you think that's impressive, you should see a computer."

"A what?"

"No matter." Hermione had already been heating water for tea, so it took no time at all to pour and serve it. "Tell me about Severus. You said he's not well?"

"He's pissed. I've never seen him that way. He can't even get himself out of bed. I broke into his home. His wards are weak at the moment. I believe he is depressed, both over your abrupt departure and over the realization that the girl is, in fact, his. He and my sister loathed each other. Neither wanted a baby with the other. I don't know whether she knew Delphini was his, but I think she suspected, judging from some of her diary entries. I believe him when he says he was certain she wasn't."

Narcissa quickly relayed the entirety of her early morning visit with Severus to Hermione, who felt sicker with guilt at every word.

"He misses you," said Narcissa in conclusion. "I'm not telling you this to guilt you into going to him – I can tell you're feeling guilty, you need to learn to close your mind – but if you care for him at all, perhaps…" She glared down at her mug of tea, hating her next words before they even left her mouth. "Perhaps you should tell him, because I think he's falling for you."

"I'm falling for him," replied Hermione softly. She glanced at the telly. The video was about half over.

"Well…" Narcissa rose. "Thank you for the tea."

"Wait."

After a pause, Narcissa resumed sitting. "What?"

"Do you still hate me?"

"You're supposed to be the most brilliant witch of your age, and yet you're not smart enough to figure out that I no longer hate you?"

Hermione screwed up her brow. "You don't?"

"I resent you. I resented the beating I'd received when I tried to protect you. I resented the fact that my husband was so very much looking forward to you. And, if I'm being fully candid, I resented the fact that you would get to leave after it was all over, to go home and put it behind you. And now I resent you for having… for… for…" Her cheeks went pink. "For fuck's sake, don't make me say it."

"You resent me for having Severus," supplied Hermione. "But I don't have him. We're… friends."

"You've already admitted you're falling for him and I've just told you he feels the same. Don't pretend now that you're only friends. It insults us both."

Hermione sighed. "Very well. But why won't you leave your husband?

"It's… complicated. In case you're curious, though, he did turn up over the weekend. At St. Mungo's. Head injury. No memory of what happened. He'll be released in a day or two. They're holding him for observation."

"What a relief," said Hermione sarcastically.

"It was for me," said Narcissa. "I was worried."

"But he's awful to you! Surely you'd be happier if…"

"You can't possibly understand." Narcissa sipped down what was left of her tea. "Divorce would not be as easy for me as it was for you."

"What?" Hermione chuckled incredulously. "Easy? When I left Reginald I was pregnant with a baby and a toddler. It wasn't easy at all!"

"You can't possibly understand," repeated Narcissa. "You had the pleasure of spending less than an hour enjoying the hospitality of my husband, dear. I've had over thirty-five years of it."

"Why did you marry him? Did you not know?" Part of Hermione couldn't fathom how Narcissa would marry him knowing he was that way, but part of her was thinking about Reginald, and how he'd been able to manipulate her, and how she'd gotten stuck before she knew it was anything less than a fairy tale.

Narcissa laughed. "Our marriage was arranged. That's how Pureblood marriages worked in our circle. Draco is the first Malfoy to have chosen his own bride, though I am told Lucius requested my hand after my sister, his originally betrothed, ran off to marry a Mudblood."

"Don't use that word in my home."

"My apologies. Old habits die hard. Where was I? Oh, that's right. After my sister took off with Ted Tonks the Muggleborn, Lucius' parents asked my parents if he could have me instead and they said yes, of course. I knew from school that he had a cruel streak – Andromeda had actually dated him, they'd slept together, and I'd witnessed him being rough with her in the Slytherin common room – but I owed it to my parents not to complain. They'd already been through so much, with Bella essentially kidnapped by the Dark Lord and then Meda defying them…"

"Why are you sharing this with me?" asked Hermione. Though she was willing to set aside her abhorrence of Narcissa and all her family had done and stood for for Severus' sake, they certainly weren't friends, and this seemed like an awfully intimate conversation for two people who barely knew each other.

"The world is a cruel place, Ms. Granger," said Narcissa. "I wish to offer you perspective. If you are going to be with Severus, if you are going to be good for him, and not hurt him, you will need it."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you seem to think that you alone are suffering, you alone have struggles. You know little of suffering and struggles."

Hermione scoffed at that. "I may not have had an arranged marriage, but I have had plenty of struggles. I had to drop out of school a year early to go on the run to help bring down the Dark Lord!"

"I had to drop out of school midway through sixth year to marry a man not of my choosing."

"For months, I could barely afford to feed my children! As a mother, you must understand how painful that was."

"I was forced into not one, but _two_ illegal second trimester abortions before conceiving Draco, simply because my in-laws insisted their first grandchild be a boy. Then I nearly died giving birth and was told I should have no more. As a mother, you must understand how painful _that_ was."

"My parents were intensely Obliviated during the war. They still can't remember who I am."

"My parents knowingly traded me to an abusive bastard to save face after their betrothed daughter ran away."

"My husband gave me to yours to repay a debt!"

"Mine gave me to the Dark Lord to escape his own punishment."

"He… what?" Hermione was aghast.

"You heard me."

"That can't be true."

"It is true."

"That's… awful."

"You're telling me. All you had to do was swallow your pride for the sake of your children while enduring an hour's discomfort. During the first war, my own sister held me down while other Death Eaters, including Severus, were invited to watch the Dark Lord defile me, simply because my husband was too cowardly to endure the Cruciatus Curse he had coming to him. Do you really wish to continue comparing personal tragedies? While I am sympathetic to your plight, both during the war and in recent years, as I said previously, you are not the only one to know what it is to suffer. Which brings me to my point. Look at Severus, how he's suffering."

"What can I do for him?"

"Go to him. And when you're with him, be patient. Try not to judge. He's not himself. He's… despondent. Drunk. Depressed. He's not ready to accept that he has a daughter, he is afraid knowing… what you do… will turn you away from him… His sense of self-worth is… He's fragile."

"You love him?" asked Hermione. Even though Narcissa had said it, Hermione was having a difficult time believing it… and she wasn't sure how to feel about it.

"I did once," answered Narcissa after a moment's pause. "I might still. But he's never loved me. And I would appreciate it if… if you wouldn't tell him. He doesn't know. It can be our secret."

"I won't tell."

"But you'll go to him? He needs… he shouldn't be alone. He's spent too much time alone. And I don't want him to end up like his mother."

"I'll go to him," promised Hermione, who'd been planning to Floo to his home later anyway. She wondered how early Eloise could arrive. She planned to contact her as soon as the elder woman departed.

Eloise was out, so Hermione left her a note. She arrived shortly before lunch time. Hermione thanked her for coming early, handed her their library card, and encouraged her to take the children out since it had stopped raining.

Moments later, she was in Severus' sitting room.

-0-0-0-

He was awake, but too damn hungover to do anything much more than lay about on his back staring at the bedroom ceiling. Narcissa's visit that morning hadn't helped matters, though he couldn't say she'd made them worse either. He'd been expecting the confirmation thus it came as no surprise. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he was not alone.

"Are you a figment of my imagination?" he slurred, staring at the woman beside him in bed. She was fully dressed but under the blanket with her arm around his waist and her bushy hair over his shoulder.

"I tried to wake you," she whispered. "Eventually I gave up. I'm sorry to have hurt you. I was afraid."

"Of what?" His head was pounding, his torso hurt, and his limbs tingled, but he was not unhappy to have her here.

"We got carried away the other morning, Severus," she said quietly. "What if we'd gone too far? What if I'd gotten pregnant? The last thing either of us need right now is _another_ child to worry about. Between the two of us, we have plenty. Besides, it isn't healthy, to jump from… from friendship to… to so much more, so abruptly. I've done that twice before. It doesn't turn out well, trust me. Especially now, my children have to be my first priority. And your daughter should be yours."

"What if she hates me?" he asked. "My daughter. What if she…?"

"Henry has been asking for you. Every day, multiple times every day. He misses you. You're… I think you have the potential to be a wonderful father." She turned his face gently toward hers. "I'd be happy to raise a child with you."

He closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers, his hand going to her hip. He tasted strongly of whiskey.

For the next hour and a half she listened as he talked about his worries, reiterated how much he'd loathed going to bed with Bellatrix, lamented the missed years with his daughter, questioned whether it was possible to ever have a relationship with her, and even admitted how much it had hurt him when Hermione took the children and left.

At that, she apologized, assured him she had her reasons and would explain them later, then kissed his temple, sat up, and attempted to extricate him from the bed.

"When did you last shower? Come on. You need to clean yourself up. If we're going to introduce you to your daughter any time in the near future, you need to be in a better place. Same goes for if you expect to spend any quality time with my children. Henry wants to be just like you. He's been brewing 'potions' in my kitchen. I won't have him falling in love with firewhiskey at three years old."

"Do you intend to shower with me?" he asked, allowing her to guide him (somewhat stumbling) from the bedroom to the loo.

"Not today." She coaxed him to sit on top of the closed toilet set, removed his shirt, and started the water. "You can manage to finish undressing yourself?"

"No," he said, smirking. "Help me."

"You're going to take a shower, get dressed, eat lunch, drink coffee, and sober up, then we're going to have a serious chat, and then, perhaps, we can consider the possibility of showering together in the future, Professor."

She exited the bathroom, closed the door, and leaned against it. She heard him get up and could tell by the difference in the sound of the water when he got into the tub.

While he was showering and dressing, she made them lunch and went over and over again in her head what she planned to say, but in the end, it was futile to have done so, because when he entered the kitchen, wearing the sort of outfit he frequently had at Hogwarts and looking considerably better than he had when she arrived, and said her name in that low, sensual timbre she found so attractive, she abandoned the stew on the stove and rushed to him. She held his face between her hands and kissed him soundly.

When they separated she said, "Severus? I want to date you."

He wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her closer.

"Hermione? I can think of nothing I'd like better."

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for the delay! I know I always update on Mondays but I fell slightly behind this weekend because I had to finish the edits for my middle grade novel by yesterday afternoon, otherwise my agent might not like me too much anymore (lol). As a result, I also had to rush this chapter a little and didn't have time to go back and do a thorough edit, so I apologize if I missed anything. Thanks for understanding! **-AL**


	25. Conscience Makes Cowards

**A/N:** I'm told that chapter alerts still aren't working, so if you missed Chapters 23 and/or 24 make sure you go back and read those first or this one won't make much sense. Thanks! Also, this chapter is pretty Delphini-heavy, but I hope the Lemon at the end makes up for it! lol **–AL**

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE**

 **Conscience doth make cowards of us all.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

"Narcissa wants me to meet her." Severus set down his spoon, unable to manage another bite of the stew Hermione made. It tasted good but his stomach was still bothering him despite the Settling Solution he'd taken, which he suspected was as much due to nerves as his hangover.

"When?"

"Between now and Sunday. She is headed to Hogwarts on Monday. What will I say to her? What should she call me?"

"She should call you whatever she feels most comfortable calling you, be that Father or Dad or Severus or Professor or Snape. You'll tell her you're glad to meet her and deeply regret that you did not do so sooner, whether that's true or not, because it will be what she needs to hear. Then you'll ask her if she has any questions and do your best to answer them."

He sighed. "I am no coward, Hermione."

"You're one of the bravest men I've ever known, Severus."

"Then why do I fear interacting with an eleven-year-old girl?"

Hermione half-smiled. "Because she's yours. And nothing is scarier than being a parent."

"I told Minerva I won't take the job," he said, changing the subject. "I wrote her on Friday."

"I know." Hermione sipped her pumpkin juice. "She wrote me after receiving the response from you. She wants me to seriously consider it. She thinks we can arrange for a student, or perhaps a couple of students, to sit for me while I'm teaching, and I wouldn't have to live there. I told her I'm considering it. We're having lunch on Thursday to discuss."

"What?" Severus' eyes widened. He ran his fingers through his still-damp hair, hoping his response would come across casually rather than pathetically. "You're leaving me?"

"Not necessarily. She said we could arrange my classes so I only have to go to the school three days per week. I could continue to see you on the other two… besides, you probably won't need me much by then. In the interim, we have three months to develop a better pain potion – and I have ideas, I spent a great part of the weekend reading and researching." She smiled and he couldn't help smiling back. Reading and researching. That sounded like her, the old Hermione, the girl she'd been before life had the chance to beat her down. "And as I said, I'd like to… to date you… and if we're dating, I really should _not_ be working for you."

Severus did not love the thought of her cutting back from three days with him to two, but he was looking forward to dating (something at which he had precious little practice) and, if he was being perfectly honest, he had to admit that teaching would likely be beneficial to her. She wanted a career, a professional future, and she wasn't going to get that by cleaning his curtains and helping weed his garden.

"You should take the job. If you want it, that is. You'd be an excellent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The students would be most fortunate to learn from you."

She beamed. Though she appreciated her role working for him (and the money – Hogwarts wouldn't pay as well) and enjoyed their regular child-free conversation time, the more she thought about the possibility of teaching, the more she was excited by it. She'd even taken the kids to Diagon Alley over the weekend so she could pick up a copy of the students' current textbooks. She didn't want to go overboard by getting all seven, so she selected Year One, Year Five, and Year Seven, in addition to a potions book specifically dedicated to safe uses of dangerous plants like Dragon's Nightshade. She'd had a lot of time to read over the long weekend while insomnia over the Severus situation was plaguing her. She'd also let each child choose a book and grabbed a copy of Hogwarts, A History as a back to school gift for Eloise.

After lunch was cleaned up and the dishes were done, Hermione and Severus returned to the garden. The ground was still wet from the morning's rain, but they had four hours in which to work and figured that was the best place to start. During the first hour, she told him what she'd read in the potions book and what she wanted to try with the Dragon's Nightshade.

After some convincing, he finally agreed to the experiment, so they snipped off a bit of the plant and headed down to his potions lab, where they spent the next two hours carefully brewing.

Thankfully between the shower, the stew, the coffee, the Stomach Settling Solution, the Pepper-Up Potion, the passing time, and the conversation, he was feeling considerably less hungover than he'd been that morning, though he was content to let her take the lead in the lab, as he was confident she knew was she was doing, even though it was experimental.

"I'm making note of the color," said Hermione, dipping her quill. "Would you call that periwinkle or lavender?"

"Periwinkle can have multiple shades, so perhaps denote that it is a lavender-periwinkle." He slipped an arm around her from behind, pressing his chest to her back, his hand firmly planted on her lower abdomen. She was trying to write when his lips found their way to her neck.

"I'm going to ruin this potion if you keep doing that," she warned.

"Pity…" His mouth moved to her shoulder, as he pushed aside the material of her sleeveless shirt and bra strap. "We'll have to start all over."

She reached up her hand to his neck, under his hair, and scratched lightly at his skin while he placed butterfly kisses from her shoulder back up her neck to just under her ear.

"This is precisely why we cannot date _and_ work together, Professor Snape. It's distracting."

But when his lips met hers, her heart fluttered… and she kissed him back.

-0-0-0-

"Severus Snape?" asked Delphini, her dark, heavy-lidded eyes wide. She and her aunt were having a late lunch in the dining room at Malfoy Manor alone, for Lucius was still in St. Mungo's and Draco had gone out with his wife and infant son. After two days of asking for a name, her aunt finally had confirmation, and, thus, gave her the information she'd long been seeking.

"Yes. Severus Snape."

"That… that… that can't be!" sputtered Delphini. "Mother hated him, didn't she? Plus, he's a traitor! And a blood-traitor! And he… and he… and he… He's… He's not… He can't be!"

She burst into tears.

"Your mother and the Dark Lord thought him suitable…" Narcissa began. Delphini cut her off.

"She was an idiot, then! And the Dark Lord too! Snape betrayed them! He's partly the reason they're dead!"

"Your mother is dead because she battled Molly Weasley and lost. The Dark Lord is dead because he battled Harry Potter and lost. Neither is dead because of the actions of Severus Snape."

"That's not true! Severus Snape _was_ partly responsible… and so are you!"

"I… excuse me?" Narcissa cocked an eyebrow. She'd given the girl as little information about the Final Battle and the second war as she possibly could, and what she did tell her, she often twisted to make Bellatrix appear in a more flattering light without building up the Dark Lord or showing support for him (or, at least, that's what she'd tried to do). So where was this coming from?

"I read that ten year anniversary edition of the Daily Prophet. I know you lied to the Dark Lord about Potter being dead! I know you lied right in front of my mother! And then you refused to fight! You and Draco and Uncle Lucius, you all refused to fight, and what happened? My mother kept fighting and she died, didn't she? She was the Dark Lord's only loyal follower, the only one who stayed with him once they knew Potter was still alive, _the only one_ , and she was killed for it, and it's all your fault, and Snape's fault too!" Delphini jumped up, causing her chair to clamor to the polished wood floor behind her. "He's a traitor and so are you and if not for you two, I'd still have a mother!"

"That's not… that's not entirely accurate," said Narcissa. "Your mother…"

"Don't tell me about my mother!" Delphini was on the verge of hysteria. "My mother is dead because of you!"

"No, Delphini, she…"

"Shut it! Stop talking! Stop lying to me!"

"I am not ly…"

"Yes, you are! You are a liar and I hate you, Auntie!"

"Delphini, please," said Narcissa, willing herself to remain patient, as she knew this news would be upsetting, but at the same time unwilling to tolerate her niece's bad behavior. "Sit down and speak to me in a rational, respectful…"

"Go to hell!" The girl slammed her hand down on the table so hard it stung. She drew it up to her chest, holding it gingerly with her other hand. "I hate you!" she repeated. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

"You have reason to be angry," Narcissa began calmly, but the child interrupted again.

"You're wrong!"

"About?"

"About my father! It's not Severus Snape. It's can't be. You're lying because you don't want me to know the truth."

"Which is?"

Delphini let out a frustrated screech. "You know what it is! Bellatrix Black Lestrange is my mother and the Dark Lord Voldemort is my father and Severus Snape is nothing but an ugly blood-traitor and you're a stupid, pathetic bitch who doesn't know what she's talking about!"

"You'll not speak to me that way, Delphini Druella," said Narcissa coldly. "Sit down."

"Why shouldn't I speak to you that way? Uncle Lucius does," replied Delphini nastily. "He calls you a stupid, pathetic bitch all the time. He acts as though Bitch is your name. If he doesn't respect you, why should I? Maybe you deserve it, the way he treats you. Maybe it's your own fault. If you hadn't betrayed the Dark Lord…"

"I mean it, young lady." Narcissa stood, staring down the dark-haired spitting image of her older sister, her cobalt blue eyes meeting the adolescent's brown ones. "You will _not_ speak to me with such disrespect. I understand that you're angry, but you are still a child – legally _my_ child, the child _I_ am raising – and it is not appropriate for you to address me the way… the way your uncle does."

"Sod off!" shouted Delphini, furious tears streaming freely down her cheeks. "I wish you were dead instead of my mother!"

Narcissa brought up her hand and, using a combination of wordless, wandless magic and the Unforgivable Imperious Curse, she compelled Delphini to pick up her chair and resume sitting in it, her hands folded neatly in front of her on the table. Though the girl couldn't fight back, she did manage to glare defiantly at her aunt as she obeyed.

"Quiet," ordered Narcissa. "I will lift the Curse, but only on the condition that you will sit, you will listen, and you will refrain from addressing me in that manner. Understand?"

Delphini nodded.

"Very well." Narcissa waved her hand again, muttering "Finite Incantatem."

Delphini tossed her tangled hair haughtily (she hadn't brushed it in a couple of days) but said nothing.

"As I informed you the other day, the Dark Lord was unable to give your mother a baby, so he chose another father for you. I am now telling you that I have confirmed that man is Severus Snape, who was, at that time, the potions master at Hogwarts, long believed to have been one of the Dark Lord's most loyal Death Eaters. He was truly, as we know now, a spy for the Order of the Phoenix, working for Dumbledore. For this, he is widely regarded not as a traitor, but as a hero. Severus is also an old friend of mine and a good man, no matter what your uncle says of him."

"Uncle Lucius says you… He says you had an affair with him! I know what an affair is, Auntie! An affair is… an affair is… it's when you _do it_ with someone but you're married to someone else! That's what he says you did!"

"Your uncle is mistaken," Narcissa said coolly, not keen for her niece to ever know that she had, indeed, had an affair with the girl's father.

"You admitted it! You told Uncle Lucius it happened only once… you said Snape _forced_ you, that he… that he…"

"You are grown enough now to realize that your uncle frequently accuses me of crimes I have not committed merely to have an excuse to take out his… frustrations… on me. I did tell him it happened only once and I was forced into it, but that was a lie. Had I told him it never happened at all he would not have believed me. I was… I told your uncle what he needed to hear. I regret that you witnessed it."

"What my mother had was an affair, though, wasn't it? She had an affair with the Dark Lord and an affair with… with Severus Snape? I don't… that doesn't make sense. Aunt Cissy, none of this makes any sense!"

"I'm sorry," Narcissa started, but Delphini interjected, her eyes filling with tears again.

"All this time! All this time I was so sure my father was… was the Dark Lord… I was sure because my mother loved him… and he loved her… didn't he? She was his most valuable and most faithful follower, everyone says so. She would have done anything for him. She was the only one he saved at the end of the battle at the Ministry of Magic, the only one whose death in the Final Battle made him so upset he screamed."

"How do you know that?" asked Narcissa. She had certainly never given the child that much information.

"The Daily Prophet, Auntie! That tenth anniversary special edition! It was all in there! Didn't you read it?"

"I… no. I skimmed the front page, but… I didn't need to read it. I was there."

"It said terrible things about the Dark Lord and about my mother, but I know most of it couldn't be true, I know because you've told me how brilliant she was, how beautiful, how powerful with a wand and even without one, and how much she loved me. They tried to interview your other sister, Andromeda, who would only say that my mum was a monster and a murderer, and that she'd gone mad while in Azkaban, but I know she's just jealous like she was always jealous of you two, because you were both smarter and prettier and more talented, which is why she ran off to marry a Muggle, like you said. That's what you said, isn't it? You said that."

Narcissa closed her eyes and mentally counted to ten.

"I am afraid I have let you live too long without telling you the truth about the... heinousness of the Dark Lord's crimes, Delphini. I did so to protect you, but now believe I have made a mistake in doing so. The fact is, he and his followers indiscriminately tortured and killed countless innocent people in a quest for power. Your mother…" Narcissa paused to bite her lip. This bit would cause her pain to relay, but she felt it needed to be done. "Your mother participated in this, as the Prophet no doubt reported. She had been brainwashed by the Dark Lord starting from a very young age. Not much older than you are now. And yes, she may have… may have gone slightly mad in Azkaban. Anyone would. But as a result, she could not see him for what he was: a power-hungry maniac intent on destroying the world as we knew it for personal gain, a pureblood supremacist who was, himself, a half-blood, and a sociopathic sadist."

"I don't know what some of those words mean," said Delphini quietly, feeling sick to her stomach. "What is a sociopath? What's a sadist?"

"A sadist enjoys causing pain. A sociopath lacks a conscience and is able to harm others without remorse. The Dark Lord was unable to love others, but he enjoyed controlling and hurting them. This was something your mother liked about him, though it wounded her that he was unable to truly return her… affections."

"Oh." Delphini stared down at her hands, which were still folded on the table in front of her. Was her mother a sadist too? A sociopath? Was her mother unable to love? No, that couldn't be. Her mother had loved her. She was sure of it. Her aunt may not have told her the complete truth about other things, but surely she told the truth about that!

"When I lied to the Dark Lord, it was to save my son, your cousin Draco," continued Narcissa. "The longer the battle continued the more likely he would be killed and I wanted to find him, to get him out of there. In that moment, I did not care whether Potter was alive or dead, or whether the Dark Lord won the war or lost. I cared only to find and save my son. A mother's love for her children is unconditional and complete, Delphini, and though you are not my child by blood I love you every bit as much as your mother loved you, and every bit as much as I love Draco."

Delphini wiped away her still-falling tears with the back of her sleeve, suddenly feeling very guilty for having blown up at her aunt the way she had.

"Though we still believe in the importance of blood purity, Delphini, Draco and I are glad that the Dark Lord lost. When he was lording over the wizarding world, it was a dark place, especially here, as he considered Malfoy Manor his headquarters. He…" She took a deep breath, wishing she didn't have to tell the girl this, but knowing it was necessary. "At times, he treated your mother just as your uncle treats me. Worse, even. Much worse. She loved him, yes, but she was also afraid of him, much more so than I have ever been of Lucius. She called him Master and considered herself his servant. He owned her, like property. He valued her as a warrior, but not in the way a man should a wife, or even a… a lover."

Thanks to Legilimency, even without trying, Narcissa could feel the confusion her niece was feeling, along with the horror this news had brought, despite the girl's blank expression. She would be a natural Occlumens, Narcissa realized. No surprise, considering the talent both of her biological parents held in that area. Narcissa sipped her wine and sighed before going on.

"There were times your mother and I both thought the Dark Lord would kill her, Delphini, including at least twice when you were a baby. He regarded her more highly than the other Death Eaters, that much is true, but he also punished her more harshly for failing him."

Delphini met her aunt's eye. She had never been told this before. She'd always imagined her mother and the Dark Lord were in love, that he was proud to have her as his deputy, his most loyal and faithful follower, and that they treated each other as princes treat princesses in fairy tales, that he elevated her over his other followers, that he would never hurt her. Her heart fell into the pit of her gut, weighing her down with the sorrow of it.

"But if he hurt her like that, why did she love him?" whispered Delphini. "Why would she love someone she's afraid of? Why did she love him if he couldn't love her? And… and what about… did… did my…" She sniffled. Yup, more tears were coming. "Did Severus Snape love my mother? I know you said the Dark Lord chose him to be my father, but to have… to have made a baby with my mother… to have done… _you know_ … shouldn't he have loved her? You told me people _do_ _it_ when they love each other."

"Love is… a complicated thing," said Narcissa. "Your… father… Severus Snape… he… When two people have sex, they…"

Damn it. She _had_ told the girl that people have sex when they love each other. But what else was she supposed to have said? 'People have sex because, if they know how to please each other, it feels fucking great?' That wouldn't have been an appropriate way to address the topic with a little girl. She hadn't had much time to prepare for that conversation – Delphini had asked about it at age nine, after accidentally walking in on Draco and Astoria, and aside from the recently-added particulars about ovulation and birth Narcissa hadn't seen fit to update her on the details since. (And she'd never had 'the talk' with Draco. She'd let his father handle it.)

"Auntie?"

"I'm sorry, my darling girl, but Severus did _not_ love your mother, nor did she love him. But he never hurt her either. He wouldn't. He wouldn't hurt any woman, not like… not like the Dark Lord, and not like your uncle. Severus is a good man, Delphini. He saved Draco's life eleven years ago, and in doing so, also saved mine. He once brought you medicine when you were sick, though he was under no obligation to do so, and he was willing to give his life for the good of humanity; it's incredible that he survived. I think you should give him a chance. I think you should meet him."

"Does he love me?"

"He doesn't know you," answered Narcissa, unwilling to lie about this. Feeling the girl's pain in response, she added, "But I'm certain, if he were to get to know you, he would."

"My mother loved me, though, right?"

"You ask me that all the time." Narcissa drummed her nails on the table, an old nervous habit her husband hated. "As I always assure you, yes, she did. More than life, from the moment she first felt you growing inside her, she loved you unconditionally. Don't you believe me?"

"I like to be sure." Delphini rose from her chair and knelt on the dining room floor by Narcissa's feet. She put her head in her aunt's lap, the way she used to when she was little and not feeling well, with her arms wrapped around Narcissa's legs. "Auntie? I'm sorry I said what I said before. I don't hate you. I don't wish you were dead."

"I know." Narcissa stroked the girl's hair, making mental note that they'd need a good conditioner to help work out these tangles before sending her off to school. "We all say things we don't mean when we're angry."

-0-0-0-

Despite their mutual decision to date and to do so slowly, Hermione and Severus ended up in bed together late Monday afternoon, while the experimental pain potion was simmering.

"But no sex…" said Hermione, as Severus' lips and tongue made their way down her topless chest to the waist of her skirt. "I don't have sex on the first date. And as we haven't even had a first date…"

"Right," said Severus, as he placed a kiss just below her navel. "No sex."

"Not even if I beg," said Hermione, running her hands over his bare shoulders. "And not even if you do."

"I never beg for sex," he said, though that wasn't entirely true… there had been a couple of times in his younger years in which Charity, bothered by his inability to commit to being more than a casual couple, had cut him off only for him to beg his way back into her bed, and, at the same time, her good graces.

"No… no sex…" said Hermione again as he slid her skirt over her hips, down her legs, and off. Her breath hitched in her throat. "I'm afraid... to get... pregnant... again..."

"No sex," he murmured, He placed a trail of kisses up her smooth, tanned leg, starting at the bone of her ankle, and continuing up… up… over her calf… to the inside of her knee… to her inner thigh… and up. He paused to suck on the skin of her inner thigh, leaving a raised pink mark when he pulled back. She gasped, her fingers intertwined in the back of his hair. His mouth moved closer to her center, to the edge of her knickers.

She squirmed.

"Does this count as sex?" he asked just before pressing his lips to her most intimate place, over the thin, dark blue fabric.

"No!" she answered, her voice a bit higher than usual. "This is fine…"

"What about now?" He slid his tongue up and down still on the outside of her knickers, which were now wet with want for him.

"Fuck," she answered, growing headier by the moment.

He pressed his thumb over her clit through the fabric and began to rub her in small circles, which made her hips buck slightly. His other hand went to her inner thigh, over the mark he'd left. He squeezed her there, eliciting another gasp, as his tongue slipped under the dark blue fabric, against her skin.

"Is this sex?" he asked as he pleasured her. "Or is this alright?"

"I need you," she answered, writhing against him, forgetting her words from a moment earlier. "Severus, I need you. Take me."

With a chuckle, he divested her of the knickers and resumed his oral ministrations, beginning by flicking his tongue over the swollen bud his thumb had just been massaging.

"No sex," he reminded her. His thumb resumed its movements as his tongue made its way down to her opening, delving inside, making her cry out with the sheer pleasure of it. Reginald had never been good at this and Ronald had rarely been willing to do it.

She clutched the pillow under her head and moaned as he licked and sucked at her, calling his name when he entered her with his fingers, going dizzy when her impending orgasm began to build.

"Fuck me," she begged. "I want you inside me. I want you… I want… I…"

"No," he said, his voice deep and definite. "No sex, remember? Not even if you beg."

"I can't… I can't… Oh, fuck… yes… Severus… Don't stop…"

He did not stop.

Closer and closer to climax she grew, her hips bucking. He held her thighs open, as she was having difficulty doing so in her blissful state. She pulled the pillow over her face and bit it to keep from screaming, even though there was no reason she needed to remain quiet.

He flattened his tongue against her clit, repeating the motions that felt best, and curled his first two fingers, which were still inside her. She thrust up toward him and collapsed back down again as the most powerful orgasm she'd had in years washed over her in waves. As the pleasurable sensations dissipated she returned the pillow to under her head and wiped away the tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes.

"No sex," he said, moving up to lie beside her. He kissed her on the temple and rolled onto his back, his chest heaving just as hers was. He tried to ignore the painful throbbing in his cock, which he could feel despite having taken a full dosage of the pain potion only an hour before, when they'd started fooling around in the basement potions lab. Somewhat tentatively, she reached down to stroke him, repositioning herself so she was on her side, facing him.

"No sex," she repeated.

A moment later, she took him in her mouth.


	26. In My Mind's Eye

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX**

 **In My Mind's Eye...**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

They didn't quite have sex on Monday and they didn't quite have sex on Wednesday, but she did request Severus help her brew a birth control potion "just in case," as it seemed like only a matter of time before they lost control… and she absolutely did not want any more children.

On Friday afternoon, they hadn't even gotten any work done before falling into bed. When she arrived he'd already taken the pain potion, she'd been thinking about him all morning, and in under fifteen minutes they found themselves in his bedroom, hurriedly undressing each other, seeking mutual gratification and the fulfillment of their shared fantasies. She fellatiated him again and he pleasured her orally and then they'd touched and kissed and held each other and enjoyed the feeling of their hot skin pressed together as they talked about the logistics of their first 'official' date, planned for later that evening.

He ran the pad of his thumb lazily over her nipple, mentally hoping that the new Dragon's Nightshade-induced pain potion she'd been brewing all week would prove useful, as this intense tingling in his limbs made it difficult to enjoy caressing and pleasuring her as much as he wanted to, and having to take a full dose, while rendering him capable of handling the pain of having her stroke and suck his hardened cock, meant that the sensations were considerably and most unfortunately dulled. This was an issue he greatly wished to rectify before they took their physical relationship to the next level… the sooner, the better.

"With how many women have you had sex?" She turned her face toward his. She was on her back and he was on his side, both still naked, more comfortable with each other than she ever could've imagined, since part of her still couldn't help thinking of him not as Severus but as Professor Snape. He, on the other hand, had no problem forgetting she'd ever been his pupil.

"This, again?"

"I want to know. I'll tell you how many men I've been with."

"Three," he said. "I already know you've been with three men, though I'm not convinced Malfoy should count, considering."

"Four," she corrected him. "Including Malfoy. And I'll tell you who the fourth was if you tell me your number. And their names."

As this mysterious fourth man intrigued him, he agreed to answer the questions, and any others she might have.

"Very well. In reverse order: Narcissa, Bellatrix, Charity, a Death Eater named Imogene Nott… and Lily Evans."

"Full stop!" She sat up in bed, her hand clapped over her mouth. "Harry's mum? You didn't!"

"Only once. The summer between fourth year and fifth. We were… mutually curious. It wasn't good." He scowled, suddenly looking very much like the ornery professor she remembered well from Hogwarts. "I mean, _I_ thought it was alright at the time, but in retrospect the fact that she asked the following day whether it 'lasted long enough to have counted' was probably a bad sign."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at that. "I had no idea. Does Harry know?"

"Of course not. I didn't exactly offer him up that memory when I thought I was dying. And I'm eternally grateful he didn't come across it when he violated my privacy via the Pensieve, an infuriating incident that, I assume, he shared with you."

"Not really," said Hermione. "At the time, he didn't say a word, only that you got angry and chucked him out. It wasn't until years later he told us what he'd seen."

Severus seemed surprised by this, but not unpleasantly so. "I'm not sure his father even knew about it. I imagine it wasn't something Lily was keen to admit… As I said, it happened only once. I would've been happy give it another go, obviously, but suffice it to say she was _not_ interested."

Hermione tried to shake from her head the mental image of a teenage Severus Snape shagging her childhood best friend's mother. It wasn't easy.

"Alright, my turn. In no particular order: Malfoy…" She shuddered. "Reginald, Ronald… and Viktor Krum."

"The Quidditch Player?" Now it was Severus' turn to be surprised. "When? Why?"

"We're old friends. Former pen-pals. He took me to the Yule Ball, but nothing happened then, though we stayed in touch. When my marriage was crumbling, but before I met Reginald, he came to London for a match and we met for dinner…" She couldn't help giggling. "It was _awful_. I was depressed and tipsy; he was positively mechanical – went from one step to the next as if following a playbook. No finesse, no talking, did nothing for me. And it's never happened again, though he has contacted me since my second divorce. Thanks to the children it's been easy to find an excuse not to meet."

"I learn something new about you every day." Severus pulled her on top of him, grabbing her arse as she positioned her knees to either side of his hips. "What other secrets might you be hiding?"

-0-0-0-

He broke the wand in half, then in quarters.

He intended to mail each piece back to its rightful owner, one at a time, over the next four weeks. Anonymously, of course.

That should give the man sufficient cause for alarm.

And his wife…

What to do about his wife?

She deserved punishment too, he decided.

She had, after all, been the one to suggest the… arrangement. Or so he'd been told.

The entire family was bad. The entire family deserved to suffer.

But the man – he should be first. He should be punished first. Then the wife… well… turnabout was fair play. She'd get hers.

Unless... unless he could find a way to kill two birds with one stone.

The possibility made him smile. He could picture it in his mind's eye. Two birds... one stone...

Yes. Yes, that would do.

After all, they'd ruined his life. Stolen it. Ended it, essentially.

Destroyed his family.

 _His_ family.

He only wanted to return the favor.

The man holding the four bits of wand smiled slightly as he placed one inside a small cloth pouch, same as the one he'd used to send her the head of the walking stick the night of the incident.

If only those bloody former Death Eaters hadn't chanced upon him in the alley, causing him to lose concentration and drop the Imperius Curse he'd placed on the man then disapparate before being discovered, the assault might have proven worthwhile.

Damn it.

It was his own fault, though. After so many months of planning, he'd gotten over-excited, and over-excitement led to recklessness.

Next time?

Next time would be different.

-0-0-0-

Shortly before Hermione had to return home, she lifted her head from his shoulder and said she had a confession to make.

"What's that?" he asked, too physically satiated to worry about what it was.

"After… what happened… with Malfoy… a part of me… a part of me vowed to never again…" Her cheeks went pink, a blush that extended down her neck to her chest. "When I left my husband, I swore off sex. I swore off men, and dating, and the idea of romance, or remarriage, or any of that rubbish. Then, when I went to place my ad in the Prophet, I told myself, 'this is who you are now, this is who you're going to be,' and I felt disgusting and ashamed and pathetic and angry, but still I swore I'd never again fall for a man. One failure is fine, everyone fails every now and again, but two broken marriages in under a decade? Three children, not married, no career…"

"You're not even thirty, Hermione," said Severus, with a hint of thinly veiled annoyance. "No one expects you to have life all figured out."

"Now I'm conflicted," she continued, completely ignoring his interjection. "I don't know what I want. No, that's not true. I know what I want. I want to not care. I want to be one of those enlightened, confident twenty-first century women who can have sex without worrying about what it means, who can enjoy the moment without fretting over the future, who can… but I can't. I meant it when I said I wanted to date you, but I've been fretting over it since. What if it doesn't work out? What if we hurt each other? What if one of us wants more than the other? What if…"

"What's the good in worrying? If you spend your life worrying, you're not living."

She settled her head back down on his shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist. "Funny bit of wisdom, coming from a man who rarely leaves the house, who cut himself off from the rest of the world, who hasn't made much of an effort to rejoin the land of the living in nearly a decade. No offense."

"None taken."

"When I make a decision, I like to weigh the options first, Severus. I read. I research. I think and rethink and determine the pros and cons and contemplate all potential outcomes… but with this, with you… I don't know…"

"I spent too much of my life that way, Hermione. I put careful thought into my every action, my every word, aware that even the slightest slip-up could get me killed, or get others killed. Cautiousness, to say the least, has been my way of life, and look where it's led me." He laughed bitterly and borrowed from her words: "One child, not married, no career…"

She placed her hand gently on his cheek, under his long hair, and guided him toward her. Just before he pressed his lips to hers, she whispered, "It's kept you alive, hasn't it?"

-0-0-0-

In the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall was pacing.

"You're making me dizzy," said the portrait form of Albus Dumbledore, as he watched her cross back and forth across the office that was once his.

"In three days, the students will return," she said. "And in three months, my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor will go on leave. What if Hermione Granger turns down the position? No one else wants it. Asking Severus was a last-ditch act of desperation. I've offered it to Dedalus Diggle, Hannah Abbott, Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Wilhelmina Grubby-Plank, Lee Jordan… I even offered it to Hestia Jones – she just married Kingsley Shackelbolt – and her sister Hazel, though they've both turned down the position multiple times in the past… I went so far as to send an Owl to Draco Malfoy to gauge his interest! He politely declined but thanked me for thinking of him. If Hermione says no…"

"I was not aware that Kingsley married Hestia," said Albus, beaming, as he'd known both Order members since their own Hogwarts days. "A fine match. Do they intend to have children?"

"Perhaps. She's only thirty-eight and he's barely a decade older," said Minerva distractedly, too frustrated by the situation at hand to really care. "More importantly, Albus, if I can't find someone to take up the position by Christmas, I'll end up teaching it myself!"

"You could do that. Or you could take over Transfiguration and have Terry Boot teach Defense Against the Dark Arts instead, if you're so inclined. Hasn't he said he's growing tired of Transfiguration?"

"Not only do I think Terry would dislike that idea, I simply do not have the time to teach seven years' worth of a core subject and run the entire school, Albus. With Fillius looking to decrease his workload, I'm already operating without a Deputy. On a related note, I was considering offering it to Septima Vector. The Deputy Headmistress position, that is. What do you think?"

"I think she'll refuse to take it, but you could try."

"How would _you_ like to teach Defense?" asked Minerva, only half-joking. "I could let students have classes right here in my office. You could do at least as adequate a job as Professor Binns. And if you forget anything, I'm certain the others would be happy to let you know."

She glanced specifically at Phineas Nigellus Black, Dilys Derwent, and Armando Dippet, the three former Heads of Hogwarts typically most willing to tell her when she was doing something in a way they wouldn't do it. In response, Phineas scoffed, Dilys rolled her eyes, Armando pretended to be asleep, and Albus chuckled.

"Hermione Granger is not only my last hope, she would genuinely be an excellent addition to the school staff," said Minerva. "Perhaps she and Severus will discuss it while they're out on their date."

"That reminds me," said Albus, his painted eyes twinkling. "How do you plan to entertain the little ones tonight? When was the last time you were left in charge of three small children?"

"Somewhere… around… never. But she needed a sitter and I need a professor and Severus, well, Merlin knows he needs to get out more, so it seemed to make sense for me to offer. Oh, Albus. I hope the children are well behaved. And I hope the eldest can talk me through changing a baby. Shall I confess to Ms. Granger that I've never done it before?"

-0-0-0-

"I don't want to hurt you," Hermione said softly, wrapping her arm more tightly around his waist. "And I don't want to get hurt."

"I hurt Charity," Severus said, just as quietly. He stroked her bare back with his fingertips, up and down her spine, under her humidity-frazzled hair. "For six years I selfishly hurt her without realizing it. It wasn't until I broke it off with her after Christmas in '95 that I realized how much she'd come to care for me. I didn't deserve her. She deserved better. I see that now. But I was in love with Lily at the time. I was in love with Lily for a long time. Too long. After the war, once I was free from the obligation of protecting her son, I was able to see that what we'd had was never anything more than friendship, nor was it ever meant to be. Thanks in part to the help of a nosy but well-meaning nurse at the convalescent home, I was able to stop obsessing over Lily – and it _was_ an obsession. I understand that now. As a result, I am a different person. But I cannot promise I'll never hurt you. I can, however, promise that I will never hurt you intentionally. Or physically."

"I don't think Ron hurt me intentionally."

"Weasley is an idiot. He's always been an idiot."

"Yes," agreed Hermione with a sigh. "But I loved him. And I loved Reginald. I don't know what happens to my brain when love is involved. I lose myself, I suppose. I change. It's pathetic. Embarrassing. Shameful. Simply put, I'm no good in love."

"Then we won't fall in love," said Severus simply.

-0-0-0-

"Saturday afternoon?"

Narcissa nodded in confirmation.

Delphini's stomach twisted. That was only a day away. Was she ready? After eleven years, more than half of them spent wondering, was she finally prepared to meet her… father?

"It's a mistake," said Lucius, entering the sitting room. He still had a wide, raised red bump on the side of his forehead where he'd been struck, presumably by his own now-broken walking stick. He was wandless, as it had been stolen, along with his money pouch, the night he was assaulted. "The girl doesn't need a relationship with that traitor. And I don't want you visiting his home, Narcissa."

"He's her father," said Narcissa, refusing to back down on this. "She deserves the opportunity to meet him, to speak face to face, to seek answers for her questions."

"You're not taking her there because it's an opportunity for her. You're taking her because it's an opportunity for _you_. But you're too late. He's fallen for the Mudblood Granger. He has no interest in you. I don't believe he ever did, beyond your ease of access. You whored yourself out to him for nothing."

"Delphini, go to your room," said Narcissa calmly, not taking her eyes off her husband's face. His grey eyes bore into hers. She refused to look away first.

The girl shook her head. "Go to your room" was code for "We're going to have a fight." And she was sick of fights. They nearly always started the same way – with Narcissa mouthing off to Lucius, asserting her autonomy or disobeying a directive or even downright insulting him – and ended the same way – with Narcissa bleeding or bruised and crying as Lucius reminded her that he was in charge.

"Your aunt is a slag, Delphini," sneered Lucius. "She, like her sister, had an affair with your father. Then the bitch turned her back on the Dark Lord and let your mother die." Though it had been a decade since the Battle at Hogwarts, Lucius was unable to forgive his wife's decision to lie to Voldemort. Though he'd had a hell of a time trying to find himself again after his release from Azkaban (and subsequent descent into alcoholism, a vice against which he was still fighting) he'd remained hopeful that a Potter-free world run by their master would result in his elevated position and prestige; the fall of the Dark Lord led to neither, though he had narrowly avoided a return to prison.

"Go to your room, Delphini," Narcissa said again. "I need to speak with your uncle."

"No!" said Delphini. "Stop it. Stop making him angry, Auntie."

"Good advice," said Lucius.

"And you!" Delphini pointed a bony finger at him, trying to appear braver than she felt. "You leave her alone! Stop calling her names. Stop spreading lies about her. Stop being mean!"

He raised his eyebrows, amused by the girl's brash tenacity.

"Or what?"

"Or… or… or I'll go get my wand from my trunk, and I'll hex you! Don't think I won't. You don't scare me."

"You'll hex me?" He barely concealed a chuckle. "How? You haven't learned anything yet."

"I've learned plenty! I've read through all of my textbooks and tried a number of spells and they've all worked for me. I even know the incantations for two of the three Unforgivable Curses, since I've heard you both use them. Besides, my mother's blood runs through my veins! Auntie may be afraid of you, but I'm not. You don't scare me. No one does." She tossed her wild hair and glared defiantly at him, her fist slightly raised as if she was, indeed, wielding a wand.

Lucius glanced at Narcissa, then back at their niece. "Sometimes she reminds me very much of Bellatrix," he hissed. "So fiery. So insubordinate. So… undeservedly over-confident in her own abilities."

"Your room, Delphini," said Narcissa. She did not like the way he was looking at the girl, like a cat that just set eyes on a mouse.

"No, no. Let her stay, Narcissa. Let her witness what happens to women who blatantly disobey their husbands." Still smiling, he grabbed Narcissa roughly by the back of her hair and jerked her toward him. "This way, in a decade or so, when she's married, she'll know what to expect."

"I'm sorry St. Mungo's fixed your head," said Delphini boldly. "It's a real pity whoever hit you didn't do it harder. Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll chance upon you again, eh?"

Lucius chuckled again, which sent a chill down Narcissa's spine. He continued holding tightly to her hair. She tried to step away but he yanked her even closer, so her back was against his chest, and wrapped his free arm around her waist from behind.

"Now she reminds me of your sister Andromeda," he murmured into her ear. "Andromeda was sarcastic and insolent too, remember? She couldn't be tamed as you could, dear." He kissed Narcissa on the temple. She remained frozen. "You were a much better match for me, until I went to Azkaban. That was the year that ruined you, all that time without me, trapped here under the influence of your wicked sister. You forgot your place. Disappointing, really. You'd been so docile up until that point. A good little wife. Quiet. Dignified. Obedient. Not like Andromeda. Not like Bellatrix. Not like this one's going to be." He nodded toward Delphini, who continued to glare at him defiantly, without fear. "I feel sorry for her future husband. What sort of woman will he be getting? Not the ideal sort I had before the second war. If only I'd appreciated you back then, Cissy. In retrospect, I don't know why I preferred your sisters. You were always prettier – you had that going for you – and better behaved. Remember?"

"I remember," she whispered. Her lunch - chips with vinegar and two glasses of wine - swirled in her stomach. She could feel the evidence of his growing arousal against her lower back, which frightened her more than the possibility of being beaten in front of her niece.

"Of the three of you, you were the least challenging, which my parents appreciated, but I _do so enjoy_ a challenge. I used to lament, if only you'd been as feisty as your sisters… as outgoing… as eager to please… I didn't appreciate your quiet willingness... however dull..."

Delphini raised an eyebrow, looking very much like her father for a second. Clearly she didn't grasp her uncle's innuendo, for which Narcissa was thankful, as she had no desire for the girl to learn her uncle had slept with both her mother and her other aunt. That would certainly confuse the "people have sex when they're in love" position, not to mention that Narcissa found it personally humiliating to be unfavorably compared to her sisters in the bedroom department.

"We don't want the girl to grow up to be like her mother, do we, Narcissa?" Lucius pressed his hand harder against her lower belly, thus causing his erection to dig uncomfortable into her lower back. "It would be a shame for her to meet the same… sticky… end."

"Delphini," she said softly, pleadingly. "Go to your room."

This time, thankfully, the girl complied, though she did so with a toss of her hair and an undignified snort. As soon as they heard her footsteps disappeared up the stairs, Lucius threw his wife to the couch and made to loosen his starched collar. Her gaze dipped down to the tenting in his trousers. She bit down hard on her lip.

"I miss the obedient wife you once were," he said as he crawled on top of her, pinning her down with her wrists above her head, parting her thighs with his knee. "But I like it when you fight back."

-0-0-0-

When Hermione returned home Friday night, she thanked Eloise both for watching the children all summer, and for being such a good influence on them. She paid her a bit extra, gave her the gift of Hogwarts, A History, and they hugged, then Helena cried because she didn't want to say goodbye to her babysitter for the next three months.

"I'm definitely coming home for Christmas," Eloise assured the children, patting Henry's head as he wrapped his arms around her legs. "The time will fly by, you'll see!"

As soon as she'd gone, Hermione fed the children then put on a movie so she could hop in the shower, though she felt a bit guilty for all the times she'd used the television as a pseudo-babysitter as of late (she vowed to do better soon… very soon… as soon as she got her life together). Usually she showered when they were sleeping as it worried her not to be able to hear them should they need her, but tonight was special. Tonight was her date with Severus.

Unable to relax if she let the baby roam free for twenty minutes, she took Hero into the shower with her and gave Helena strict instructions not to let anyone in the house no matter what, and to come to her immediately if anyone arrived or if Henry misbehaved.

By the time Minerva knocked at the door, at quarter to eight, Hero was already dressed for bed and the other two were waiting for story time, but Hermione was not ready for Severus' impending arrival. Her hair was a half-braided mess, she wasn't wearing makeup on one eye (but it looked great on the other!) and she'd changed her dress four times even though she'd picked one out the day before.

How could she feel so nervous about a night out at a restaurant with a man she'd literally been in bed with only a matter of hours earlier?

"Come in," said Hermione, opening the door for Minerva. "Thank you so much for this, Professor McGonagall. I… I never go out at night."

"Glad I could help," said Minerva. She smiled at the baby in Hermione's arms. "Let me take this one so you can finish getting ready."

"I was just about to put her to bed. Henry can stay up until after we leave, and Helena can stay up until 8:30. I've started staggering their bedtimes lately because Henry has been keeping Helena awake, so I need him asleep before she goes in. We… they… There's only one bedroom."

Helena introduced herself politely, introduced her brother, then took Minerva by the hand and led her to the bedroom to show her where Hero would sleep while Hermione hurried back into the loo to tame her hair and finish her face.

Fifteen minutes later, Hero was asleep, Hermione was fastening the straps on her heels and Minerva was reading to Henry and Helena on the couch when Severus Snape stepped out of the Floo. His nearly shoulder length hair was clean and brushed, his eyes were dark and thoughtful, and he was dressed in his long, high-collared frock coat with buttons down the front and down the arms, black trousers, a black belt, and laced up boots. He looked as he had at Hogwarts, minus the cape-like robe he used to wear and the scowl that used to plague his face.

Hermione's breath hitched in her throat. Though she continued to have mild difficulty keeping the man she knew now preferably separated from the professor she'd had in her youth, she couldn't help finding this old, familiar look – this decidedly un-Muggle look – inexplicably arousing. She pictured herself undoing each of those many buttons, kissing her way down his exposed skin, fiddling with the buckle on that belt…

She tugged anxiously at the mid-thigh hem of her thin-strapped, scoop-necked robin's egg blue dress (under which she wore knickers but no bra) and wondered whether he'd think it was too short, or too tight, or too… blue. Her hair was pulled into a loose French braid, tied with a blue and gold ribbon that accented the gold of her shoes. Aside from smoky eyes and rustic rose lipstick, she'd gone minimalistic with her makeup. She felt pretty, albeit a bit uncomfortable.

Henry ran to him for a hug, thrilled to see "Pofessah" after over a week of asking when he'd be coming back for dinner. Severus picked up the boy, greeted Minerva and Helena, and then spotted Hermione standing by the entrance to the kitchen.

Now it was his turn to momentarily forget how to breathe.

His gaze started at her face, those eyes, and her lips, and down to her bare shoulders and soft chest, and further, over her hips, down her tan legs, to those heels, and back up again.

"Hermione," he croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hermione, you look beautiful."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I haven't done this in like 20 chapters, so here are some review responses for the last five...

 **Elphaba8385** \- I was wondering if anyone would mention that Narcissa used the Imperius curse on Delphini... What can I say? She's not exactly Mother of the Year material :-P haha

 **HarryPGinnyW4eva** \- I didn't want to show them talking too much about it in here or in the last chapter, but they did/will discuss what he's going to say to her and we'll see flashbacks to it in the chapter in which they actually meet. As for Delphini, yeah, she's pretty much a rude and spoiled brat, but hey, it's not her fault! haha (maybe once she spends more time with her father, he'll help her shape up... or maybe not, I can't promise. lol)

 **Vickety** \- Yes, you will find out the mysteries re: who killed Reginald Park and who attacked Malfoy, but not for awhile. There will be 50 chapters so we're about halfway through :)

 **Thorn** \- Thanks so much! I'm glad Narcissa's involvement was still believable and also that Delphini seems less insufferable than she did inisial. I worried a little about showing a different side to them while keeping it natural.

 **Calimocho** **(Liz)** , **traveltotheend, viola1701e, MHS1986, Sassyluv, haveyouseenmyprefectbadge, sevslave1** \- I hope you're all getting alerts now! It's been so annoying with all the ffnet glitches lately. Thanks for your reviews!

 **Myracle-Wryter** \- I'll take it as a compliment! lol :) Thanks!

 **Vani12** \- Thank you so much! And thanks for having read and reviewed  Wanting Narcissa. I love showing the other side of the 'bad guys.' I'm going to try to reveal over time how/why Hermione stayed with Reginald for such a long time despite growing signs he wasn't the man she thought he was at first. :)

 **Garnet** \- It's like you're reading my story outline notes! Get out of my head! hahaha (I love it, though!)

 **RainyCityWriter, PopularCats, PurpleHedgehog13, elizabethrose1974, crankypants16, guest(s), triwhardkristen-once, DutchGirl01, tonixx, Harry Hobbit, ninaaaaa, jmullinax, sassanech, marzipan4, millydown, RhodaBush, B1ackrain, JaneDoh0, Mayhem Call, Megan13, APeaceofPie4Everybody011, worrywart, Lunajen323, Zedoc,** and anyone who reviewed prior to chapter twenty - Thank you! Good or bad, happy or sad, I appreciate your feedback and love reading your reviews!

 **-AL**


	27. Before You Tumbled Me

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN**

 **Before you tumbled me…**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

They went to Morgana's on Horizont Alley. It was a small, expensive, dimly lit restaurant that didn't exactly suit either of their tastes, but was widely regarded as the best place in the wizarding world to enjoy a meal in peace, with wait staff who valued their clientele's privacy, and where patrons were generally so wrapped up in their dates they ignored those around them, no matter who they were or whom they were with.

Everyone who was anyone in the wizarding world had been there... except Hermione and Severus. Until now.

Bellatrix and Narcissa had gone there several times during both the first and second wars, as there were few places in the early '80s and mid-'90s that wanted Death Eaters could dine out without causing a scene or risking arrest.

Minister for Magic Kingsley Shackelbolt had proposed to a shocked Hestia Jones while dining there (with her sister and brother-in-law) last Christmas, after eight long years of seemingly directionless dating.

Flying instructor and then-professional Quidditch player Rolanda Hooch had dined there countless times in the early '40s, during Grindelwald's war, when many establishments would outright refuse to accept the patronage of the lesbian and her longtime girlfriend.

Harry Potter had taken Ginny there on their first wedding anniversary, hoping to avoid the press for a change, and had enjoyed it so much they'd come back for every anniversary since. He had no way of knowing it, but his parents had also eaten at Morgana's once, though they found it too hoity-toity, hence never returned.

Ron Weasley had come to the restaurant too, with Lavender several times during their affair, while his wife was working overtime, as he knew it was the one place he could enjoy a meal with his girlfriend without risking anyone ratting him out.

Even the Dark Lord Voldemort himself had eaten at Morgana's prior to the start of the first war, usually joined by his wild-haired, dark-eyed protegee, who should have still been in school at the time.

And many, many decades back, Morgana's was where Minerva McGonagall went on her first official date with the professor she'd been seeing for months before finishing her own Hogwarts education.

"Popular place," said Hermione, glancing around. She recognized a few of the diners, but none seemed to notice her. "I've never been here before."

"Neither have I," he admitted. "But Minerva assured me it was the place to go." He frowned, slightly embarrassed by the confession that he'd asked Minerva for dating advice, but Hermione squeezed his hand reassuringly and did not comment on it.

The hostess, a short, ginger-haired older woman with a spring in her step, led them to their table, after confirming they had a reservation. She took their drink orders (they chose to share a bottle of red elf-made wine) and assured them their waiter would be with them shortly.

They looked over the menu. They ordered. They sipped their wine.

They looked at each other awkwardly.

For two people who'd spent two hours per day, three days per week, over the last couple of months talking to each other, they suddenly had no idea what to say.

Over appetizers and entrées they made small talk about the latest Daily Prophet articles, the still-simmering new pain potion, her children, his daughter, and even the weather…

Finally, when discussing whether to order dessert, Hermione blurted out, "This is... uncomfortable."

"I know," said Severus, relieved to have had her say it first.

"I don't know why," she said. "There's no reason for us to be utterly incapable of carrying on a conversation!"

"I haven't been on a date since 1994," he confessed. "And I haven't been out on a first date since 1988."

"I was eight years old for most of 1988."

"That's an uncomfortable reminder of how much older I am than you."

Her cheeks went crimson. "What is _wrong_ with us?"

"What indeed. We should leave. This is not working." He reached into his pocket for a few galleons to place on the table.

Her mouth dropped open. "You want to end our date early?" She willed herself not to cry from the humiliation of being dumped mid-date in public, by a man she'd already half-fallen for, no less!

"No, not at all!" he assured her. "I want to leave _here,_ not leave _you._ I want us to go somewhere… else. This isn't… This atmosphere is not conducive to the sort of people we are. I fear we've put too much pressure on ourselves to interact as others do, but we are not… others. I have a better idea. Do you trust me?" He reached out his hand and she took it, relieved. He caught the eye of the waiter, tapped the table next to the pile of galleons, and nodded. The waiter nodded back.

Severus led Hermione from the darkened restaurant, still packed with wealthy, high-class and discretion-seeking diners, and into the alleyway beyond. He grabbed her firmly around the waist.

"I've wanted to tear that dress off you all night," he growled into her ear, making her shiver. Then he apparated them away.

When she opened her eyes again, she expected they'd be at his home on Spinner's End, but was surprised to find they were nowhere near it.

"I like music," he said, as if that answered her question about where they were. "And books."

"I… so do I," she said.

"This is Poor Yorick's." He gestured toward the rundown looking building before them, which had a sign reading CONDEMNED on the bolted and padlocked door. "It's where the Weird Sisters got their start. They used to play little clubs and speakeasies as individuals, before they met here, formed a group, and chose their name. I like this place because despite live music on the piano and a variety of cleverly named cocktails, it feels a bit like an ornate library, full of people who'd rather discuss literature than attend a Quidditch match. The walls are lined with books and there's an entire wall dedicated to Shakespeare, who, unbeknownst to Muggles, was himself a half-blood, though most unfortunately a Squib. There's no smoking inside as it damages the pages of the texts, thus the overwhelming smell is of book binding glue and aged parchment. Muggles cannot enter, nor do they wish to, much like St. Mungo's, so it features an entirely witch-and-wizard clientele, though we're unlikely to run into anyone… anyone you wouldn't want to." He held out his arm. "Interested?"

"Very!" She looped her arm through his. He waved his wand twice clockwise around the CONDEMNED sign and a doorknocker appeared. He banged twice on the door with it, then rang the bell that appeared in place of the padlock, then knocked once more. A tiny window appeared and slid open.

"Names?" asked the gruff voice of an elderly woman, who peered suspiciously at them through the glass.

"Severus Snape and Hermione Granger."

"Hermione. A Winter's Tale," noted the woman approvingly. She narrowed her eyes at Severus. "You've been here before."

"Yes."

"Then surely you can answer three questions."

"Of course," he said casually.

"First," said the woman, her voice low. "Who dies first: Romeo, or Juliet?"

"Too easy," said Severus. "Romeo."

"Too easy indeed," said the woman. "Second, in which play does the Bard reference 'the beast with two backs'?"

"Again, too easy," said Severus, sounding almost bored. "Othello. Act 1, Scene 1."

"Let _her_ answer the third," said the woman, her eyes darting toward Hermione. "Why does the villain Iago murder Desdemona, and why did she deserve it?"

"That's a trick question," said Hermione, glancing at Severus for confirmation, though she was reasonably confident in this. "Iago was indeed a villain, but Desdemona was murdered by her husband, Othello, who wrongfully thought she had been unfaithful. She certainly didn't deserve it."

The woman behind the door nodded and closed the window. A moment later, the door opened. They stepped inside. The door slammed behind them.

"Wow," breathed Hermione. Severus hadn't been exaggerating – not only were the walls lined with books, the shelves started just below the ceiling and went all the way to the floor. There were two pianos on either side of the bar, and between them a line of leather-padded stools, but most of the furniture looked as though it belonged in a lovely Victorian home. Or, perhaps, a comfortable old library. While it was nearly as dark as the restaurant had been, there were candles with eternally burning flames floating above every small table, and on couches and soft chairs various cocktail-drinkers were curled up, books in hand, using the tips of their hovering wands to light the pages. A thin, bearded man sat at one of the pianos, playing a jazzy, jaunting tune, and a couple of couples with their arms wrapped around each other were swaying on a small dance floor, not at all in time with the music.

"It smells like Amortentia," whispered Hermione. Severus, smiling, slipped his arm around her waist and led her to a small couch toward the back corner, where the academic books met the Shakespeare shelves.

"The Weird Sisters met here and chose their name?"

Severus nodded.

"Fitting, considering!" She gazed around, her eyes still wide, obviously impressed. "The three witches from Macbeth were called the Wyrd Sisters, weren't they?"

"They were."

"And they were real? Like the Peverell brothers?"

"Affirmative," he said. He waved over a waitress. "Would you like a drink? Or a book? Or both?"

"Both," she answered. Once they had drinks in hand, he summoned over a copy of Hamlet from the shelf. Then, from the waitress, he requested a copy of a second, thicker manuscript, one that required an additional password and his special signature to receive. She brought it to them with a reminder that it must not be damaged in any way upon return.

"What is it?" asked Hermione. Severus smiled. He handed it to her.

"Only 40 completely intact copies of the original printing of Shakespeare's First Folio are in existence, and this is one of them. Printed in 1623."

She held it gingerly, as some women would a massive diamond or a newborn baby. "Most of these are owned by library collections. People aren't allowed to touch them."

"Shortly after I returned home from my St. Mungo's convalescence, this place was at risk of going under, due to a lack of funding for building repairs. I donated a significant amount - though it was technically Dumbledore's money, not my own - and as such, I am able to check out some of their more sought after collectibles… But as you noticed, I nevertheless cannot be granted entrance without answering three questions correctly, despite having known Gladys for almost thirty years. There is only so much preferential treatment galleons will get you here."

After they'd looked through the book together and returned it, Hermione opened the one he'd summoned from the shelf.

"Hamlet? Very romantic reading for a first date," she teased. "What shall I read first? The part in which Hamlet laments his mother's marriage to his uncle, or the part in which Ophelia lines her pockets with stones and wades into a river to commit suicide? I haven't actually read it before, but I know enough to know it's one of his darker works."

Severus laughed. "You could start here…" He opened the play to a page that contained a speech he happened to like and pointed to a line midway down.

"It's Ophelia's line," said Hermione. She tilted the book to see it better in the candlelight. "'Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be.' Seems fitting." She smiled, blushing a bit, and continued down the page to the song Ophelia sang.

" _Quoth she, 'before you tumbled me, you promised me to wed_.'"

He recited the next line of the song from memory. " _He answers, 'So would I ha' done, by yonder sun, An thou hadst not come to my bed._ '"

"Nice man!" said Hermione sarcastically. "He told her he'd marry her before they slept together, then they slept together, and he told her he wouldn't marry her because she slept with him?"

"Sounds like a couple of wizards I knew back in school," said Severus. "Don't worry, Ms. Granger. I'm not going to promise to marry you before getting you into bed."

"Good," she said, puffing up her chest, her brown eyes glittering in the candlelight. "Because I don't want to marry you, Professor. I don't want to marry again, ever. We've talked about this. You know I'd rather live in sin."

"Very well," he said, his voice intoxicatingly deep. He leaned toward her, his hand going to the side of her neck, his lips a breath from hers. "Then I look forward to sinning with you."

"You should kiss me," she murmured.

"I intend to," he replied, just before his lips captured hers.

She was just slipping her tongue into his mouth, forgetting where they were, when a lilting, melodic voice said her name, followed by, "I knew you'd end up together."

They pulled swiftly apart. Severus straightened his collar, though there was nothing wrong with it, as Hermione tugged at the hem of her short dress.

"Hello, Luna," she said. Luna and her fiancé, Rolf, who were holding hands, smiled down at them.

"Evening, Professor Snape," said Rolf, putting out his free hand to shake Severus'.

"Mind if we join you?" asked Luna. Without waiting for an answer, she waved her wand to summon a chair closer and sat down across from them. Rolf did the same. "I've never seen you here at Poor Yorick's before, Hermione, but your presence does not surprise me. Rolf and I are regulars. We're here every other Friday night."

"I was not aware of that," said Severus. Rolf nodded.

"I play the piano from eight to nine," he said. "You've missed me by an hour."

Though Hermione and Severus hadn't initially been happy with the interruption, they soon found themselves deep in conversation with fascinating Luna and her equally fascinating husband-to-be, and were actually a bit disappointed when the pair said they had to be off.

"Perhaps we'll see you two Fridays from now," said Luna. "Assuming I can find a part-time job between now and then. Goodnight!"

Once they'd gone, the couple still had a half hour before they had to return home to relieve Minerva.

"So you haven't read Hamlet," said Severus. "Which plays have you read?"

"Despite my daughters' names, the histories are my favorites," answered Hermione. She placed her hand casually on his knee and began to make figure eights with her middle finger tip against his leg. Even though he'd taken the pain potion before picking her up, this light touch caused him a bit of discomfort, but he did not wish to tell her, as he didn't want her to stop. "I've read a great deal of the comedies though, and a few tragedies, but the tale of Hamlet just seemed so depressing."

"It is," said Severus. "But it has its funny moments too, primarily when Hamlet is being a perverse git to his love, Ophelia, and it contains some of the bard's best dialogue, including the 'To Be, Or Not To Be' speech. Though I prefer the comedies, as I told you before, this is my favorite of the tragedies. I could… read it to you."

"I'd like that," she said. The piano music was loud enough to cover over patrons' discussions without being overwhelming, and when he wrapped his arms around her, settling her back against his chest, and spoke into her ear, it gave her butterflies and goose bumps… in addition to having other effects on her physically.

"'Scene 1. Elsinore. A platform before the castle. Francisco is at his post. Enter to him Bernardo…'"

Too soon, it was time to go.

"I like it here," she said as they exited outside, seeking a place from which it would be safe to apparate. "We should return."

"Perhaps the Friday after next," he said. They were holding hands. He tugged her into a dark alley. "We could hear Rolf Scamander play piano."

"Or perhaps next Friday," said Hermione, smiling. She slipped her arms around his waist as his hands made their way to cup her arse. "It was lovely talking with them, but I also like the idea of just us."

"A pity we didn't ask Minerva to stay until morning. I want to take you home with me."

"I want to go home with you."

"I want to take this dress off you, throw you on my bed, and explore you as I did this afternoon… but I don't want to have to stop before it goes too far…"

"I want it to go too far," she said, her voice husky. Her eyes met his. She felt slightly lightheaded. Her knees buckled. "I want you to tell me all the things you want to do to me, Severus."

He swiveled them around so her back was pressed against the cool, hard wall of the vacant alleyway. He grinded his body against hers as their lips met. When they parted, he said, "I want to do everything to you, Hermione. Whatever you want, whatever you'll allow me… I want to make you moan with pleasure. I want to make you scream my name."

"Touch me," she replied, arching her back, pressing her chest to his. His left hand slid up from her waist to grab her breast, only half of which was covered by the material of her dress, as he lifted her with the other arm. She wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him, taking his tongue in her mouth, thrusting her body against his… wanting him… forgetting herself…

In the distance, a clock chimed, indicating it was eleven, time to relieve Minerva. Severus set her back down and adjusted the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt as she rearranged her dress and avoided his gaze, suddenly embarrassed for the wanton way she'd thrown herself at him. He breathed heavily, struggling to regain control, trying desperately to ignore the intense aching in his arms and back lifting her had caused.

"Shall I apparate us?" she asked. He nodded, knowing he was too weak to do it himself, but thankful she didn't need him to say it. She took his hands.

Seconds later, they were standing on her doorstep.

She let them into the flat, quietly enough that Minerva didn't hear them enter.

Of course, that could be because she was utterly entranced by the tiny animated characters on the television, who were dancing and singing about working in a diamond mine.

Hermione and Severus exchanged a glance and a smile.

"Minerva?" said Severus. The elderly woman jumped.

"Oh! You've returned. I was… It may surprise you to know that I've seen a television before, but I have. My father was a Muggle. We had one in our home, starting about a year before I went to Hogwarts. But I've _never_ seen a video player that puts films on right in your own home, and in color, no less! Perhaps I've been away from the Muggle world for too long." Minerva shook her head and reached to switch off the telly. "How was your night?"

"Lovely," said Hermione as Severus answered, "Excellent."

"Happy to hear it," said Minerva. "The children went to bed easily and were well-behaved prior to it, though your little boy was disappointed when I said he couldn't wait up for Professor Snape to return. I have to admit, when he told me if he couldn't stay up he wasn't going to brush his teeth, I might have told him if he chose not to brush his teeth they would fall out while he slept and he'd have to eat mush until they grew back. He obliged, but I fear I may have traumatized him. I haven't much experience with small children."

Hermione chuckled. "That's ingenious. Henry's been very difficult about tooth-brushing lately."

"Thank you again, Minerva," said Severus, hoping she didn't notice the awkward way he was walking on account of the alleyway encounter. "Are you certain we can't pay you for your trouble?"

"Absolutely certain," she insisted. "It's payment enough just to see you out among the living, Severus. It's been too long."

She was set to Floo back to Hogwarts rather than apparating, since the latter would involve a relatively long walk from Hogsmeade, so they bid her goodnight as she stepped into the fireplace.

"Hogwarts School, Minerva McGonagall's office!"

Once she was gone, Hermione grabbed Severus by the front of his button-down frock coat and pulled him toward the couch.

"I can transfigure it into a bed," she said. "If you stop before you're… finished… we don't have to worry about the birth control potion not being ready."

"I appreciate the offer," he said, "But I'm afraid I must decline."

"What? Why?"

He kissed her lightly, almost platonically, on the lips before answering.

"Because you don't have sex on the first date, remember? Not even if I beg."

"You want me," she said teasingly. "I know you do. I don't have to be a Legilimens to read the look in your eyes. It's easier to translate than Shakespeare's Hamlet."

"And yet my respect for you runs so deep, I am going to deny myself this pleasure and return home alone."

"My sitter goes back to Hogwarts Monday. What are we going to do?"

He shrugged, not any happier about this than she was, though he had an idea. "Luna Lovegood needs a part-time job. Do you reckon she knows how to change a nappy?"

"Severus, you're brilliant. I'll ask her."

"No, _you're_ brilliant," he said. "On Sunday the new pain potion will have been simmering long enough for me to try it, and judging but its color and fumes, the dried Dragon's Nightshade seems to be dissolving safely as you predicted. Assuming it doesn't kill me, and assuming you are able to arrange a sitter between now and then, I can think of a few ways for us to celebrate the start of the new school year."

"Are you certain you don't want to stay the night?"

"Make no mistake, Hermione Granger." He kissed her again, a more lingering kiss this time, but again he pulled away before she was ready to, a showing of considerable willpower on his part. "I _do_ want to stay the night. But I won't."

-0-0-0-

Minerva McGonagall returned to Hogwarts tired from being awake so late, but in a good mood. Even if Hermione didn't take the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, she was glad she'd offered to babysit so the couple could go out. She'd seen the way they'd looked at each other upon his arrival. And she'd sensed they were both more than ready for her to leave upon their return.

She said goodnight to Albus in his portrait, as she did every night, and headed off to bed.

For the first time in decades, she wished she hadn't been so career-oriented. She'd nearly been married two years after leaving Hogwarts, but thanks to the laws about marriage to Muggles that existed back then, it would have meant giving up her magic as her mother had, and she loved both her abilities and her position at the Ministry too much to choose love over her wand.

She'd eventually married much, much later, to her former boss from the Ministry, but he passed away after only three years together, in 1985. At fifty, she then felt she'd missed her last chance for children, and focused on her students instead.

"Damn you, Dumbledore," she whispered as she dressed for bed. Though it was unfair, she sometimes couldn't help but blame the former Headmaster for some of the choices she'd made in her youth, since she'd been so heavily influenced by him.

Ultimately, though, she did not regret having returned to Hogwarts as a professor in her early twenties. She loved teaching, and as Headmistress, she sometimes missed it.

Not that she wanted to take on Defense Against the Dark Arts on her own. She clasped her hands in front of her as if in prayer, the way her minister father taught her in the early 1930s.

"Please, Dear Merlin, please let Hermione Granger say yes."

-0-0-0-

By midnight, Hermione was showered, her makeup removed, in her pajamas, and crawling into bed between the children, her mind swirling with conflicting thoughts and feelings.

She'd sworn off men after Reginald. Sworn off the idea of Happy Ever After, of romance, of another marriage, or more children, of sex in general. She was determined to never again lose herself in a relationship, to let a man change or control or confuse her as Reginald had, and, to a much lesser extent, as Ron had. She was adamant that she'd never again fall in love. It was too emotional, too all-consuming, too dangerous.

But for a crazy moment that night, when she'd asked Severus to stay, knowing full well that the birth control potion was not complete and that it wouldn't exactly be smart to rely on the 'pull out' method, a tiny, stupid, careless voice in the back of her brain had said, 'It wouldn't be _so bad_ to have another child, to marry again, to be in love. It might even be… nice.'

"No," she whispered aloud to the dark. Helena curled up next to her, sensing her presence, as Henry wiggled his cold toes under his mother's warm pajama-clad thigh. She needed to be smart about this, to avoid letting her emotions get the better of her. She liked Severus, yes. She was attracted to him. And she still fully expected them to end up shagging at some point in the near future. But she would not – _could not_ – fall in love. Not again. Absolutely not.

No.

-0-0-0-

A few minutes before midnight, Delphini slipped into her aunt Narcissa's bedroom, and was relieved to find that Lucius wasn't present. They'd been sleeping in separate rooms for about two years, but Delphini was aware that he occasionally invited himself into his wife's bed for the night, though she made it clear he was not welcome, and even more confusingly, sometimes Narcissa willingly retired with him to his.

"Auntie?" whispered Delphini, nudging her aunt. She could smell the alcohol permeating the air in the room… both her aunt and uncle drank too much lately, especially at night. She didn't like it. They were both a lot meaner when they'd been drinking. "Auntie, are you awake?"

"No," said Narcissa, but she rolled over, facing the girl. She kept her eyes closed. "What do you want, Delphini?"

"I can't sleep. I had a nightmare. I had a nightmare about my mother… and… and about my father."

"Get in." Narcissa slid over to the other side of the bed, toward the wall, and lifted the blanket so her niece could crawl in beside her. "What was the nightmare?"

"He… Severus Snape… he and my mother were fighting. She called him a traitor to the Dark Lord and he didn't like that, so he hit her. She didn't like that he hit her, so she cursed him. This made him angrier, so he took her wand away. And… and then he… and then he held her down on the floor, and got on top of her… like… like…"

Narcissa sighed. Clearly, in the girl's subconscious, she'd taken a negative memory of her aunt and uncle and substituted her parents into it.

"Nightmares aren't real, Delphini. That never happened."

"But you tell me all the time, I'm just like my mother. And he hated my mother. Uncle Lucius says Severus Snape _hated_ my mother. And if I'm just like her… Auntie, what if he hates me too?"

Being too tired and, frankly, too drunk to manage an in-depth conversation, Narcissa responded not in words, but by pulling the girl to her. Delphini rested her head on her aunt's chest, comforted by the rhythmic thumping of her heartbeat, even though she was arguably too old for cuddling.

-0-0-0-

Shortly after midnight, Severus crawled into bed exhausted and in more pain than he'd experienced since he'd started taking this newest pain potion, despite having combined it with alcohol. As he drifted off he waffled between two thoughts. One, that he'd be meeting his daughter for the first time since her infancy in fifteen hours time. And two, that he might not be adverse to going from a man with no children to a man with four… or more.

He hadn't wanted to say goodbye to Hermione tonight, but he hadn't wanted to stay over messing around on her transfigured couch either. He wanted to take her home with him, to a home they shared, and wake up with her in his arms as he had those couple of days she'd slept in his bed just over a week ago. He wanted to know that her children – and, perhaps, his – were safely asleep down the hall, preferably in their own beds rather than in one they shared. And though he hadn't met her yet, he thought over Christmas break he might want to take his daughter away from Malfoy Manor – specifically, away from Malfoy – assuming she'd be willing to consider leaving her aunt.

He wondered how long one was generally expected to date before asking the other to consider a 'next step,' in this case, perhaps moving in together, since she was so adamantly against the thought of marrying again.

He sighed and turned his pillow over, as if answers could be found on the other side.

For the first time in a long, long time, he desperately wanted what he'd missed out on as a boy: a happy family.

-0-0-0-

Delphini Druella Black.

In less than a day, she'd finally be meeting her father.

The traitor. The half-blood. The man who did not love her mother.

The man who spied on and betrayed the Dark Lord.

The man who might have had an affair with her Auntie.

The man who brought her medicine when she was sick as a baby.

The man who was willing to give his own life for the good of humanity.

The man who probably didn't love her, but might, someday… if he got to know her.

-0-0-0-

Minerva McGonagall.

In approximately two and three-quarter days, students would again fill the halls of the school she ran, the school she'd been running since the May 2nd, 1998 battle almost destroyed it.

And in three months, her students would be without a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Damn it, Dumbledore.

Somehow, some way, this had to be his fault.

And even if it wasn't, she could blame him.

It was nonsensical, sure… but it made her feel a tiny bit better.

-0-0-0-

Narcissa Black Malfoy.

In approximately two and a half days, she would say goodbye to the little girl she'd raised since she was just over a year old.

She'd send her off on the Hogwarts Express, not to be seen again until Christmas at the earliest. Which was good. She'd be safe at Hogwarts. Hogwarts was a safe place. Safe from her mother's memory. Safe from her bordering-a-breakdown aunt. Safe from her increasingly violent uncle.

Safe from an anonymous creep sending bits of wand through the Owl post.

She stroked the girl's hair, unable to fall back to sleep.

She remembered crying all the way home after she'd bid goodbye to Draco at Platform 9¾ in 1991.

It had hurt to say goodbye to her only son, the center of her world.

But she'd gotten used to it.

Part of her didn't understand why it hurt just as much to be doing it again.

The girl wasn't even hers.

Not really.

-0-0-0-

Hermione Jean Granger.

In approximately seven hours, her children would wake up, needing her to change them, feed them, entertain them, mother them, and love them.

Three children. Quite enough.

Quite enough work. Quite enough commitment.

And she was happy with them, happy with her little family.

They did not need a man to make them complete.

She did not need to fall in love again.

But she couldn't get him out of her head.

-0-0-0-

Severus Tobias Snape.

In fifteen hours he would be meeting his daughter for the first time since she was six months old.

He had no idea what she would be like.

He had no idea what questions she might ask.

He had no idea what to say to her.

He had no idea how it would feel to look upon her again after all these years.

To look into the eyes that were, unmistakably, her mother's.

She was her mother's child.

But she was also his.

He flipped the pillow over again. Now neither side was cool.

Fifteen hours.

He only hoped she wouldn't hate him.

* * *

 **A/N:** Aughh, I had such trouble writing their date! It went awkwardly at the restaurant because I felt awkward writing it, and I think the reason was that I'd been placing so much pressure on myself to make it lovely and perfect and wonderful, which is why, when I gave up on that, I had them just up and leave… lol. Anyway, a lot of you who reviewed Chapters 24-26 said you're excited to see him meet Delphini, so I hope you enjoy the next chapter, in which it finally happens. As an aside, the info about Minerva McGonagall's life comes mostly from Pottermore, where she was given a fascinating back story I couldn't resist including. Thanks for reading and reviewing, following and adding to favorites! **–AL**


	28. Something's Rotten

**CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT**

 **Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

The morning after his date with Hermione, he awoke as early as he used to when teaching at Hogwarts, not long after sunrise, even though he'd been out late the night before and was both exhausted and in pain. He tried to fall back to sleep, but after an hour of tossing, turning, and four-letter-words, he gave up and got out of bed.

In the afternoon, he would be meeting his daughter.

His daughter.

The child he'd conceived with that vile sadist, Bellatrix Lestrange.

Against his will.

Fuck.

What were they going to talk about?

He and Hermione had discussed this over and over and over again during the previous week, but now that he was mere hours away from meeting the girl, all of Hermione's advice went straight out of his mind, leaving him feel as empty as if he'd just given all of his memories to a Pensieve or been heavily Obliviated.

She was leaving for Hogwarts in two days.

How could he and his daughter possibly develop a relationship now?

-0-0-0-

"I'm leaving for Hogwarts in two days. How can my father and me possibly develop a relationship now?" Delphini asked Princess Bridget Emily Louise Leigh Anne, the black-haired, white-faced, sad-eyed porcelain doll she'd been carrying around all morning. Of her all dolls, Princess BELLA was her favorite, as she greatly resembled Delphini's mother around age nine, right down to her pin curls and ruffled collar. Delphini knew this because she had a photograph of her mother had that age prominently displayed on her bedside table. In the picture, Bellatrix was holding this exact doll, which, Narcissa had said, she'd picked out at the store because of their resemblance. Narcissa had also said this doll was the only one her mother packed when she went to Hogwarts and therefore the only one she took when she left school early to serve as the Dark Lord's first lieutenant. "It was sent to her Gringotts vault when she went to prison, but she had it taken out so she could give it to you for your first birthday." That was in February, 1998, only three months before Bellatrix was murdered by that Muggle-loving baby-factory Molly Weasley.

"You're worrying too much," said Draco. Delphini jumped. She hadn't heard him enter the dining room. She was alone at the head of the table, with her back toward the door, the doll seated diagonally from her. "Also, it's 'my father and I.'"

"I wasn't talking to you anyway," she said, scowling. "I was talking to Princess Bridget Emil–"

"Aren't you too old to be talking to a doll?" he interrupted.

Scowl deepening, she poked at her breakfast and refused to respond.

"That's disgusting." Draco sneered at his cousin's plate, on which she had a sliced soft boiled egg on toast covered in black pepper and so soaked in vinegar she needed a fork for the bread, though perhaps a spoon would've been better. "Did our House Elf suffer a sudden fit or is that the meal you requested?"

"I asked for it," she said. "I like pepper on my eggs."

"And I like vinegar as much as the next person, though not on eggs and toast, but it's too much. I could smell it from the hall. The peacocks can smell it from the grounds. McGonagall can smell it from Hogwarts. I think there are Spanish wizards who can smell it all the way from Barcelona."

"You keep talking I'll bloody your nose so you won't smell anything," she snapped.

He ignored the threat. "Are you trying to pickle your organs?"

"You're so funny, Draco. How bleak Malfoy Manor would be without your witty repartee!"

"You've been spending too much time with my mother, Delphini. You're starting to sound like her." He sat diagonally from his cousin, moving her doll out of the chair, and snapped his fingers. A House Elf appeared, bowed, and asked him what he wanted.

"Astoria and I will have tea. She's not hungry, just toast and grilled tomatoes for her, but I'll have a fry-up. Bring juice for the baby."

"Astoria's never hungry lately," said Delphini once the House Elf had disapparated. "Is she sick again?"

"Having Scorpius took a lot out of her." Draco sighed. The truth was, Astoria was indeed sick, very sick, and she wouldn't be getting any better. They knew when they decided to have a baby that it would be a risk to her – a blood malediction resulting from an ancestor's curse had seen to that – but she wanted him to have a child, and she wanted to be a mother… and she wanted to know he wouldn't be alone once she was gone.

"Your parents don't like her much," said Delphini unnecessarily. She had a habit of contributing to the conversation information that was neither terribly helpful nor polite, something Narcissa figured she'd inherited from her mother, as Bella had frequently done the same.

"I don't much care whether my parents like her. Oh!" He jumped up as his wife, with their eighteen-month-old son in her arms, entered the dining room. "I ordered you toast and tomatoes. Scorpius can eat off my plate." He took the boy from her.

"Thanks, love." She smiled at Delphini. "So, are you excited about meeting your father today? Have you thought over what you'll talk about?"

"Yes." Delphini cut off a bite of soggy toast with her fork. "I'm going to ask him how he could make a baby with my mother if he didn't love her."

"Well, that should kick off the conversation swimmingly," said Draco, rolling his gray eyes.

"Why don't you start by asking him how his recovery is going, or asking whether he'd like to exchange correspondence while you're away at school?" suggested Astoria gently. "Or you could ask him what his first day at Hogwarts was like, whether he has any advice for you. He taught there for nearly twenty years. Draco and I both had him for Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. He was a capable professor, though not always the friendliest one. You could ask him anything about the school and he'd be likely to answer. Right, dear?"

"Yes," confirmed Draco. "Might be nice to get a bit of insider information before you arrive."

"No thanks," said Delphini pleasantly. She took a bite of vinegar-soaked toast and added with her mouth full, "I'm going to ask him about my mother."

-0-0-0-

"Mummy, how was it?" Helena was seated at the kitchen table, swinging her legs, awaiting breakfast. "Was your date with Professor Snape terribly romantic?"

"Terribly romantic?" Hermione laughed. "Where did you learn that?"

"Professor McGonagall. She read us the Cinderella book from the library last night and at the end she said, 'Well isn't that terribly romantic?' And I said, 'Oh yes, it _is_ terribly romantic!' And then I asked her if she thought you and Professor Snape would get married and live happily ever after like Cinderella and the prince and she said she did not know, but she hoped you would have a nice time on your date. Your _terribly romantic_ date. Are you going to get married, Mummy? Can I be your flower girl?"

"May I, not can I," corrected Hermione. She kissed her on the top of Helena's head then poured her a glass of pumpkin juice. "As for marriage, well... Professor Snape and I… we… We're friends, that's all. We went out to dinner because we're friends. It wasn't a date and I doubt we're going to get married and live happily ever after."

"Oh." Helena looked down at her juice, clearly disappointed. "It wasn't a date? But you were so… lovely looking."

"Am I not usually lovely looking?" asked Hermione teasingly.

"You're mostly more… frazzly."

"Alright," Hermione conceded. "I suppose it was a date, then. But a friends date, not a 'terribly romantic' one."

"That means he didn't kiss you goodnight?"

Hermione went pink as her mind flashed back to the scene in the alley way: when he captured her lips with his… when he caressed her breast… when he lifted her up… when he grinded against her… when she kissed him back… when she _almost_ would've been willing to let him take her right there against the wall… and later, when she asked him to stay the night… Fuck, she'd wanted him to stay the night...

"Mummy?" Helena prodded. "He didn't kiss you goodnight, Mummy?"

"Friends, Helena. We're just friends."

-0-0-0-

Lucius was alone in bed.

He sat up, looked around, and cursed.

He hated waking up alone when he hadn't fallen asleep that way.

Narcissa had slept with him the night before. He hadn't even had to prompt her. He'd come out of the loo after a shower, wrapped in his moss green satin robe, to find her in his bed, donning one of her more revealing silk nightgowns, still wearing makeup, her just-unbraided grey-blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders in attractive waves.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" he'd asked.

"I'm lonely," she'd answered. "And I love you."

"No, you're not, and no, you don't."

"Yes I am and yes I do. Why else would I be here?"

He chuckled. "I know you too well, my dear. You're here because you're depressed. You'll be seeing Severus tomorrow and you're depressed because he doesn't want you, he wants the Mudblood. You're depressed because unlike that girl, you're over fifty and past your prime and you're afraid no one will ever again want you, a valid concern, considering. Thus you're here because you want _me_ to want you, to make you feel better about yourself."

"Fine. You do know me too well. I _am_ depressed. I want to be wanted." She slid the nightgown over her head, keeping herself covered by the sheet, and tossed it aside. "Does it matter? I'm here. I'm willing. I'll even fight back if you want me to."

After a moment's hesitation, he told her 'fighting back' would not be necessary, removed his dressing gown, drew back the sheets, and climbed on top of her. He didn't allow himself to reach completion until she'd already done so, and he even murmured much-appreciated words of affection into her ear as he thrust into her, which brought her more pleasure than the physical act.

He'd fallen asleep shortly thereafter, though it was only 9:30, and because he was a deep sleeper, he had no idea that she'd dressed and returned to her own room a little before eleven.

-0-0-0-

Severus showered, dressed, fixed himself a quick breakfast, and headed down to the potions lab in the basement to check on the simmering pain potion, the birth control potion, and the Ice Mice. Of the three, only the treat for Henry was ready for the next step. Having transfigured an ice cube tray into a mold, Severus poured the mixture, and set it out to harden. He smiled. They'd only need about six hours. He could offer one to Delphini, should they turn out well.

If she liked candy, that was.

Which she must, right? All eleven-year-olds liked candy. And pudding. He intended to make a pudding. Would she like it?

He hadn't said this to Hermione (or to Narcissa) but it bothered him that he had no idea what his own daughter liked, not even something as basic as whether she would prefer Every Flavor Beans to Chocolate Frogs, or if she'd select Drooble's Best Blowing Gum over Ice Mice. He didn't know whether she liked art or Quidditch, chess or gobstones, fiction or non, bright colors or dark, cats or dogs, Herbology or Charms… He knew more about Hermione's three children, even the baby, than he did about his own. And this bothered him.

Even so, he'd bought Delphini a gift to take to school. It was a book he'd found fascinating at her age, Enter Three Witches: a History of Magical Women Who Changed the Wizarding World. It profiled famous witches, Seers, and sorceresses from the year 1 AD to the year 1900, including the real Wyrd Sisters, best known from Macbeth. He'd received it as a gift from his mother at age eleven, shortly before the start of his own Hogwarts education. Eileen Snape had been proud because her own paternal great-great-grandmother, Elmira Prince, was highlighted in it for her pioneering efforts in the field of potion-making in the mid-1800s.

"You're the first half-blood in the Prince line," his mother had whispered when she handed it to him, not wanting his father to hear, as Tobias Snape hated any mention of magic. "But you're just as bright and you'll be just as talented as all the rest, because their blood flows in your veins. You're as much as Prince as you are a Snape, as much magic as you are Muggle; don't ever forget that, Sevvy."

(He'd hated being called Sevvy, but he let his mother do it.)

Severus thought Delphini might like the book not only because it featured strong witch after strong witch, which he hoped would inspire her, but because a member of her mother's paternal line was also profiled: Isla Black, who, at age 9, managed to save her entire family from a four Dementor attack by grabbing her father's wand and screaming out "Expecto Patronum!" after his Patronus proved not strong enough and he'd passed out. A decade later, Dementors became wardens of the prison Azkaban, and Isla was disowned for marrying a Muggle-born, but still, Delphini might like to see a familiar last name in the index. He sighed, missing his mother for the first time in many years.

"Make me proud, Sevvy," she'd whispered, pressing the book against his chest, her eyes darting toward the bedroom door as if afraid her husband would suddenly appear there even though he was at work. "You'll make your mummy proud, won't you?"

-0-0-0-

Lucius showered, shaved, dressed, and trudged down to the dining room, where Delphini, Draco, Astoria, and the baby were finishing breakfast.

"Good morning, Father."

"Morning, Draco. Astoria. Delphini." He touched his thumb lightly to the toddler's forehead. "How is my grandson today?"

"Hi-hi!" said Scorpius cheerily, waving. The resemblance between the boy and Hermione Granger's daughter Hero was uncanny. That white-blond hair, those wide grey eyes, that small, upturned nose… They could be brother and sister.

 _Except she's his aunt,_ Lucius realized. _My daughter, Draco's half-sister… which made her Scorpius' aunt._

His daughter.

It was an odd thought.

He'd always wanted more children.

He hated that his parents had forced Narcissa into those early abortions, simply because she was required to birth a boy first.

 _But then,_ he reminded himself, _had she had the same complications while birthing a girl, I might not have gotten my son._

And it was far more important to have had a son.

Still, it might be nice to have a daughter…

"Father?" asked Draco, shaking him from his thoughts. The young man looked concerned. "Are you quite alright?"

"Yes," he said. "Yes, quite alright. If you'd excuse me… I'm not hungry for breakfast." Without another word, he hurried from the room, heading back toward his bedroom, lost in thought.

He suddenly had the overwhelming desire to speak to the woman he'd only had the fortune of bedding once, with the intention of convincing her it would be in her best interest to allow him access to his daughter. Perhaps he could even take her away… raise her properly… with money, and his name, and a proper magic-based primary education, like Draco had.

But how to get close to her?

-0-0-0-

"Mummy, Pofessah come for dinnah?" asked Henry over eggs and sausage. He'd been thrilled to see the professor the night before, but disappointed when they left shortly after his arrival.

"Not tonight," said Hermione, as she cut another sausage into tiny pieces for Hero, who was making a mess of toast in her high chair. "Should we invite him one day next week?"

Hermione had Owled Luna that morning asking if she'd be interested in a part-time babysitting job, but figured it would take a few days to get a response, thus she intended to have Severus over at least once in the next week since they wouldn't be able to work together until she arranged childcare… though he had assured her she could bring the kids to his home any time. (She suspected he missed them as much as they missed him, which both pleased and frightened her.)

"Tomowwo?" asked Henry.

"Maybe Monday."

"Yestahday?"

Hermione chuckled. Henry didn't quite have a good grasp on time and days.

"Monday, love. The day _after_ tomorrow. But maybe we'll go out today and buy a nice big calendar. We can practice today, tomorrow, yesterday, and the days of the week."

"I know the days of the week!" said Helena, setting down her tomato juice. "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday…"

"Fieday, Sattuhday, Sunnyday!" finished Henry. "I know too!"

"It's Sunday, not sunny day," Helena corrected, looking rather put out by his interruption.

"Sunny day!" shouted Hero, throwing up her hands. She glanced toward the window. Outside it was, indeed, sunny. "Yay! Ow-side?"

"Yes, we'll go outside. We'll go to the park and have a picnic lunch, then spend time at the playground." Hermione gave the baby the sausage she'd just cut and returned to her own seat at the table to finish her eggs. During the rest of the meal, Helena and Henry dominated the conversation, talking about the food they'd take on their picnic and the games they'd play in the park, with Hero occasionally chiming in with words she knew and gibberish when she just (presumably) wanted to feel like she was contributing to the conversation. Hermione was quiet. Uncharacteristically, she had nothing to say.

-0-0-0-

Perhaps, while Narcissa and Severus were busy orchestrating a little family reunion with Delphini, Lucius should travel to the London flat of Hermione Granger.

Perhaps, if approached the right away, she would be as open to having him play a part in their daughter's life just as Severus now intended to do in that of Delphini.

Perhaps if it might even be possible to steal her from Severus by way of their daughter. If he could convince her he was sorry, that he only wanted to do what was right by the child, that he wanted to atone for his past and give the girl what her mother never could, she might allow him into their lives…

And once he'd proven himself better than she thought him to be, once he made her realize she'd been seeing him all wrong, she might develop feelings of admiration or respect or appreciation for him… feelings he could manipulate into something more, which he could use to…

A slow smile crept across his lips.

What a wonderful way to get back at both Severus and Narcissa for their betrayal, to woo the Mudblood Granger.

She had been brilliant and capable once, that was true, but life – and, figuratively, her second husband – had sufficiently beaten her down at least enough that she'd been willing to fuck Lucius to save her children and her reputation.

Yes, this could work out quite nicely.

The small smile grew into a grin. He'd wait until after his wife had been gone at least fifteen minutes before apparating to London. After all, he wouldn't want to risk having to explain where he was going (and he couldn't lie to her. Her Legilimency skills were too strong. He'd only ever gotten away with misleading her twice in their over thirty years together and neither was easy). He'd have to get around the wards Hermione Granger had no doubt set around her flat since his previous visit, but how difficult could that be? He'd managed more on the Dark Lord's orders countless times. All he had to do was convince her to listen to him, just get five minutes of her time… just to establish an interest, not in her, but in the girl, a normal fatherly interest. He needed to seem sufficiently guilty for what had transpired, and he needed to make her believe he truly wanted to make amends, to do the right thing. The right thing… one thing at a time… and surely, before long…

Brilliant.

"Don't worry, Hero," he said aloud. "Daddy's coming."

Now… what to wear?

-0-0-0-

While the children played together after lunch, Hermione remained quiet, consumed by gnawing worry. The same old worries. The more time she spent with Severus, the more she liked the man she now believed him to be. He'd changed considerably since her days as a student, not only because he no longer had to rely on a façade in an act of self-preservation but because he was finally free, not being manipulated, used, or expected to behave in a certain way. Though he could still, at times, be sullen or snarky, she could tell he genuinely liked her and respected her – the fact that he'd refused to spend the night because she's previously told him she didn't have sex on the first date was proof of that – and she liked that working for him made her feel useful and productive.

She enjoyed brewing with him, even though they had argued again last Wednesday over the use of the Dragon's Nightshade, how much to use, and how to prepare it, and whether it would work.

Ultimately he had been the one to give in, promising that he trusted her, but unable to stop himself from adding, "Besides, if it kills me, I'll simply remain on earth as a ghost to haunt you for the rest of eternity. Imagine me, hovering somewhere by the ceiling, judging and glaring at you and whatever man you should meet in the future, eternally invading your privacy, most notably on your wedding night as you attempt to consummate the union."

"I can't imagine it, because I never intend to marry again," she had replied. Then, just to show she could be as sardonic and cheeky and vulgar as he could, she added, "So you'll just have to hover up there watching me fuck someone I have no intention of committing to in the long-term. Do you intend to do so with every man I find myself bedding for the rest of eternity? And will you be a silent observer or do you intend to provide commentary? Either way, how very uncomfortable for you."

"Commentary?" he'd cocked an eyebrow. "You mean you wish for me to rate your future lovers from an outsider's perspective? A bit perverse, perhaps, but I suppose I could manage. We should develop a scale on which to judge them before I die, though, to keep matters uncomplicated." He moved behind her, his hands on her hips, and slid one down between her legs as she poured oil of sulfur into the simmering cauldron. "Will we base pleasure level on what he does, or on how you react to it?" He pressed two fingers against her clit under her skirt through her knickers and began to move them, his lips at her neck, while she stirred the potion.

"You're a dirty old man who doesn't deserve me," she'd admonished, but when he made to remove his hand she grabbed his wrist, nonverbally urging him to continue as she added another ingredient with her free hand.

"If I'm a dirty old man who doesn't deserve you…" he'd growled into her ear, "Why are you so wet for me?"

"Because the timbre of your voice drives me mad," she'd answered, grinding shamelessly against his hand, as she dropped in the diced lacewing flies. She'd closed her eyes as the contents of the cauldron hissed ominously, as predicted. "Because I cannot deny how badly I want you."

He'd then turned her, lifted her, and sat her on the edge of the long table, her knees on either side of his hips.

"I don't want you with another man," he'd said as his hands slid up under her skirt to the sides of her knickers, under which he slipped his hands. He grabbed her arse and thrust her toward him. "Not even if I die."

"That's not exactly your call, though, is it? I'll be with other men if I want to be with other men, whether you're dead or not."

"Don't kill me with your potion. I don't believe you went through all the trouble of saving me from Nagini only to kill me quite accidentally a decade later."

"Don't you trust me?" She'd pressed her lips lightly to his, then placed her hand firmly on the back of his neck under his hair, and pulled him close for a second, more searing kiss. As they snogged, she dug her nails lightly into his shoulders while he continued his caress of her clit, his fingers now on the inside of her knickers.

"I trust you, Hermione."

"I won't kill you, Severus."

"Thank you. And if you _do_ kill me, I won't haunt you."

"How chivalrous of you. If this potion works, if it relieves your pain without the side-effects caused by the other two versions, and if it doesn't kill you, you'll be sure to thank me for your pain-free future, won't you?" Now she'd brought her hand down between his legs, to stoke his growing arousal. He winced but, as usual, didn't want her to stop. "Won't it be nice for this to bring you nothing but pleasure? For it not to hurt at all? Won't you thank me when it doesn't hurt?"

"I'll thank you," he'd promised, as he pumped his index and middle fingers into her, making her moan, as she unbuttoned his trousers. "Hermione, I'll thank you over and over and over…"

-0-0-0-

"Will you be ready to go soon, Delphini?" Narcissa asked, poking her head in the girl's bedroom. Delphini was standing in front of her floor-length mirror wearing her most expensive dress robes, attempting to fix her hair by curling it around the handle of her gold-plated hand mirror, but when she pulled the handle from the curl, her hair went limp.

"What am I doing wrong, Auntie?"

"Everything," sighed Narcissa. "Sit on the bed. I'll fix your hair. Actually… wait. First, change your outfit. You're meeting your father, not the man you're going to marry."

Delphini gasped, horrified. "Am I betrothed? I thought Uncle wasn't serious about that, about me getting married in ten years. Auntie! I don't want to get married. I don't want to do… you know what… with a boy! I'm too young!"

"Calm down, girl." Narcissa went to Delphini's wardrobe in search of more suitable attire. "You're not betrothed to anyone; it's just a saying my mother used whenever we were over-dressed. As in, 'We're having tea with your cousins, not dinner with the man you're going to marry!' Wear your dark blue pinafore over the white round-collared blouse."

Pouting, Delphini obeyed, then sat on the bed to have her hair fixed. Rather than curl it as she had for Minister Shackelbolt's ten year anniversary dinner in the High Priestess Ballroom at Merlin's in July, which is the look Delphini was hoping for, Narcissa plaited her niece's hair into two tight French braids.

"I look like a little girl," lamented Delphini. "He'll never take me seriously in this."

"Take you seriously?" Narcissa chuckled. "Child, you're not being interviewed for a job."

"I'm a bit nervous, Auntie, that's all."

Narcissa kissed her niece on the forehead. "Trust me, my dear girl. He's just as nervous as you are."

-0-0-0-

What if she hates books?

What if she hates Ice Mice?

What if she hates sticky toffee pudding?

What if she hates his modest Muggle home?

What if she hates him?

He set the book down on a shelf, in front of the others, unwrapped (he wasn't sure whether it should be wrapped) and headed into the kitchen to check on the dessert he'd prepared.

They were expected to arrive in ten minutes time.

Ten minutes.

Ten minutes and he'd be meeting his daughter.

-0-0-0-

Narcissa and Delphini traveled to Spinner's End via Portkey. It was a short walk from the edge of the woods to Severus' home. Narcissa led the way, pulling her niece along by the hand, as the girl sneered judgmentally at the rundown Muggle homes lining the dirt covered road. They knocked on his door and it opened of its own accord. Narcissa let herself in first, urging Delphini to follow, and led the girl into the sitting room, calling hello.

"Hello, Narcissa," said Severus. He handed her a glass of wine he'd pre-poured when he'd run out of other stuff to do. "You must be Delphini."

"Obviously," said the girl. Severus couldn't help a half-smirk from forming across his lips, even as Narcissa nudged the girl in an obvious reminder to remain civil. She looked like her mother – the spitting image of Bellatrix Lestrange – but in that one word, the first word she'd ever spoken to him, she sounded like her father.

"Would you like something to drink? I have pumpkin juice, gillywater, butterbeer…"

"No, thank you. I have several questions to ask and I expect you to answer them."

"Of course." He indicated the couch and she sat. Narcissa sat on the other end of the couch, with Severus across from them in the rocker. "Ask away."

Delphini bit her lip, another trait inherited from her mother. She had dozens, no, hundreds, maybe thousands of questions, but for all of her pre-planning she suddenly had no idea where to begin. She wanted to know if he hated her mother, if he was really a traitor, if he'd ever been loyal to Voldemort, whether he was pureblood or mixed, what he really thought of Harry Potter, what his Sorting had been like, how it was possible to have not known about her if he met her as a baby, and if he did know, how he could pretend not to for all these years...?

But after an awkward, silent, two minute pause, during which she regarded him with an expression mixed of defiance and disgust, she looked past his overlarge nose into his dark eyes, the same color as her own, darker than her mother's had been, and burst into tears, startling both her father and her aunt.

"If you're my f-father," she hiccupped through her tears, "Wh-why don't you _love_ me?"

-0-0-0-

They were finished with their picnic lunch and playing on the playground equipment when Helena suddenly stopped swinging. Her eyes went wide, fearful, and her body froze. Hermione didn't notice at first. She was pushing Hero on a baby swing, and watching Henry swing on his belly, pretending to fly. It was he, actually, who first noticed something was wrong with his sister. He'd been calling "Watch me, Hewena, watch me!" when he caught her expression of abject terror.

"Was wong?" he asked. "Mummy, wookit Hewena."

"Helena?" Hermione left Hero safely secured in the baby seat and rush to her eldest child. "Helena, are you feeling alright?"

"Over there," she whispered, her eyes flickering past her mother, at a point over her shoulder. "Behind the tree. A man is watching us."

"A man?" Hermione's heart caught in her throat. "Where?"

"He keeps disappearing," whispered Helena. "But it looks like… it looked like…"

"Someone we've seen before?" asked Hermione. "Someone we know?"

"No," said Helena. She shook her head as if to clear it. "No… Mummy… I… I don't know."

Down the row of swings, Hero began to cry. Hermione ignored her for the moment, knowing she was merely expressing her upset that no one was pushing her, knowing she was fine. She squeezed Helena's shoulders reassuringly.

"Tell me, love. Who did you think you saw?"

Hero's crying stopped. Henry glanced over at her. Someone was holding her, carrying her toward them.

"Mummy?"

"Not now, Henry. I need to talk to Helena. Love, who did you think you saw? It's okay. You can tell me."

"Ms. Granger," said the voice of a man behind her. Hermione swiveled around, standing up. Right in front of her, Lucius Malfoy stood, holding Hero in his arms. She had stopped crying. He held her out toward her mother.

"Lucius! You frightened my daughter!" exclaimed Hermione, taking Hero. "It's alright, Helena. It's just Mr. Malfoy, and I'm sure he'll be going soon." she squared up to him, prepared to tell him off - or use her wand, if need be. "You can keep swinging, children."

"Alright," whispered Helena.

But Lucius Malfoy hadn't been the man Helena spotted watching them from behind the tree.

* * *

 **A/N -**

This chapter ended up being like 9000 words long, which is just crazy long, so I cut a bunch of it to use in the next chapter instead, but I hugely apologize because I intended to show Severus' whole visit with Delphini in 28 but it didn't make sense to move the stuff leading up to it. Hope y'all don't hate me now! I promise, it opens chapter 29 and you'll see the whole thing! Thanks for your patience. Sometimes during edits things go in a direction I didn't expect. :)

 **\- AL**


	29. More Sorrow Than Anger

**CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE**

 **A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Severus shot Narcissa a look as if to say, 'Now what do I do?' She shrugged, rolled her eyes, and placed a hand on Delphini's shoulder. The crying girl pushed her away, drew up her knees, and pressed her forehead to them, her arms wrapped protectively around her body. She was thoroughly embarrassed and furious with herself for this pathetic display of emotion, and yet she couldn't stop. Her shoulders heaved, her body trembled, and the tears continued to flow.

She felt arms around her body and at first figured it was her aunt again, but before she could shrug the woman away, she realized these arms were unfamiliar, as unfamiliar as the man to whom they were attached. She opened one eye, turned her head and peeked out up him from under a curtain of hair. He was looking her over with an expression of confusion and concern.

She wanted to hate him, to tell him how much she hated him and make him feel as unloved as she did, but she couldn't bring herself to do it, because he kind of smelled good... like old books and peppermint candy... and his hold was strong and comforting... and they had the same color eyes... and she couldn't deny that she liked it, being hugged by her father. Being hugged by one of her parents. Even if he was, for the most part, a stranger.

"Why did you hate my mother?" she whispered. "My aunt says babies are made when two people love each other, but you didn't love my mother. And I'm just like my mother, so you must not love me. That's why you've never been to see me, not since I was a baby. You brought me medicine when I was six months old. You looked at me then and saw I would be just like her so you hated me too and that's why we've never seen each other again."

"Why would you think that?" asked Narcissa, thankfully saving Severus from having to respond just yet. "I never said he hated her or that he hated you. I told you he didn't know you were his..."

"But that's doesn't make sense, Auntie." Finally Delphini lifted her head. She tried to move closer to the end of the couch, but as there was no room, Severus took the hint and moved toward the middle, giving her space. She looked at him. "Aunt Narcissa said the Dark Lord chose you out specially to have me with my mother because they thought you would be a good match, that you had qualities that would benefit a child if inherited, like intelligence. So you knew you were with my mother just to... to have a baby. Then you saw me when I was six months old, so you knew it worked, you knew I existed. That means you had to know I was yours. Nothing else makes sense. Which means you chose never to see me again. Isn't that what you said, Auntie? Didn't you say the Dark Lord picked him, even though he did not love my mother? The Dark Lord picked him to be my father because my mother badly wanted a baby, she wanted me, and the Dark Lord couldn't give her a baby even though he loved her..." (Delphini had not been able to give up on the long-held believe that Voldemort had loved Bellatrix) "He loved her and she loved him and he valued her above all others as his most loyal and most faithful and most capable follower, but because he could not give her a baby like she wanted he picked someone else instead. He chose you." She nodded at Severus, then switched her gaze back to her aunt. "And then _he_ brought me medicine when I was sick as a baby, but hasn't seen me since?"

"I... that is what I told you," said Narcissa. She darted a glance at Severus, torn between wanting to keep up this lie and needing to come clean.

Delphini's eyes filled with tears again. She couldn't bring herself to add that it was her uncle Lucius who insisted that Severus had hated her mother so much he was sure to hate her too, but being Legilimens, both Severus and Narcissa were able to discern this. Delphini, dejected and anxious, stared down at her hands, unable to look at either the woman who raised her or the man who'd chosen not to.

Severus cleared his throat.

"That's the truth," he said, heartbroken and guilt-ridden over having contributed, however inadvertently, to the girl's pain. "And yet, it's not."

Delphini wiped her eyes with her palms, inwardly cursing herself for having cried at all, took a deep breath to steel herself, and pointed a bony finger at Severus. "Then you shall tell me the whole and complete truth, sir. I order you to! Or... else." She tossed her hair and sat up straighter, as if daring him to disobey. He cocked an eyebrow, amused by this sudden show of bravado and the empty threat. She looked even more like her mother in this moment than she had upon first entry. Though he could never imagine feeling anything more or less than contempt for Bellatrix, that haughty look on the face of a first year was almost endearing.

"I shall, but not because you've demanded it. I shall tell you the truth because you deserve it. But I warn you, it may not be what you wish to hear. The truth often hurts us. Feel free to stop me at any time."

"I won't," she said. "I can handle it. I'm not a baby. I'm _eleven_."

"Very well." He leaned back against the cushions of the threadbare couch, illuminated somewhat spookily by the flickering light of the hanging lamp above. "The Dark Lord indeed valued your mother above his other followers. She was, as you said, his most loyal, most valuable, most faithful and arguably most capable servant. But make no mistake, she was his _servant_. In some ways he respected her position, elevated as it was, but he did _not_ return her love. On the contrary, though he sometimes treated her as one would a wife or girlfriend, he could also be terribly abusive, frequently worse to her than to the others, and she called him not by his name, but by the title 'Master.' She was afraid of him. She, like most others in our world, was too afraid even to speak his name."

"I've told her this," said Narcissa.

"You didn't tell me she called him _Master_ ," said Delphini, looking horrified. "Like a worthless bloody house-elf!"

Narcissa, at this, downed the rest of her glass of wine and rose to pour herself more.

"But that doesn't answer anything," continued Delphini, switching her gaze back to Severus. "You must have known I was your daughter if the Dark Lord picked you to be. Right?"

"The Dark Lord..."Severus and Narcissa exchanged a pointed look over the back of the couch. Without him having to say a word, she poured a second glass of wine for him. He breathed deeply, contemplating his next words.

Narcissa brought the wine over, handed it to him, and settled back in the rocker. She had a sudden picture in her head, a memory from eleven years ago August, sitting on that very couch beside her sister, across from Severus, who'd been seated in an armchair he no longer had. She was shaking, drinking wine, listening to her husband's friend, the man she'd been shagging for weeks, and her sister goad and challenge each other, while she fretted over the fate of her only son, set up to die.

Narcissa shuddered at the very thought of it, recalling how she'd sobbed, how she'd thrown herself to the floor by his feet and kissed his hand and begged him to make the Unbreakable Vow. As she, for the first time ever, essentially admitted that her own loyalty to the Dark Lord had waned.

Severus was momentarily lost in his own head too. How could he tell Delphini the truth without scarring her, without giving her information no child should have about her mother, especially not at this young age? How could he possibly kick off his first-ever conversation with his young daughter by telling her that her mother had been pushed into sex with multiple men, men who were not allowed to say no, men who included her uncle and step-uncle, simply so she could have the baby the Dark Lord had been physically unable to provide her?

"Professor Snape?" Delphini wasn't sure what else to call him. Severus seemed too informal and there was no way she'd be calling him Dad (not yet, anyway). "You said you'd tell me the truth."

He sighed. "The truth is this: at that time, and throughout all the years since, I believed I was being lied to. I thought it was always the Dark Lord's intention to have his own offspring with your mother, an heir, but to protect the child, he had to make it appear that the baby had been fathered by someone else. So yes, I knew you existed... but I never for a moment thought you might actually be mine." This was not the whole truth, but also not a lie.

"Maybe you loved my mother a little bit?" asked Delphini, her dark eyes shining hopefully as she stared up at Severus. "Maybe that's why... why you and her were able to have a baby together, instead of the Dark Lord? Because... because if he didn't really love her..." She adjusted her position so she was sitting on her knees, facing him. She glanced toward Narcissa, who had moved to the rocker when Severus joined the girl on the couch. "He couldn't have a baby with my mother because he didn't really love her, because two people need to love each other to make a baby, but you could – I mean, you did – so you must have... you must have... if you loved her a little..."

Fuck, this was painful. He shot a sharp look in Narcissa's direction. Why did she have to tell the girl people needed to love each other to make a baby? What sort of nonsense was that? When his father explained sex to him during the summer between first year and second, it was basically 'this goes here, that goes there, if you're not married you should stop before you're finished, and if you fuck it up, nine months later a baby comes, then you're stuck with the woman until one of you dies.' This was, Severus figured, the case with his parents. No mention of love.

"Maybe you thought she was pretty?" added Delphini. "She was pretty, wasn't she? Auntie says my mother was pretty. Auntie says even the Dark Lord thought she was pretty."

"Delphini is a tad obsessed with her mother," said Narcissa delicately. "It's my fault, I'm afraid. I've built Bella up for her over the years... perhaps I shouldn't have."

Severus sighed yet again. What an awful place to have found himself in. He could lie and pretend he didn't loathe the vile sadist who'd birthed the vulnerable girl before him, or he could break her heart by telling her the truth, that he'd hated every moment with her mother, that her mother had been no one to put on a pedestal or wish to emulate... that her mother had been almost as evil as their shared Master. Damn it, Narcissa.

"Professor Snape, please tell me. Did you maybe love my mother a little? Maybe because she was pretty?"

"She was indeed pretty," he said after another moment's pause. "When I first met Bellatrix, she was perhaps twenty-seven years old, her eyes were like yours, though not as dark, and she wore her hair in wild curls. She was... shapely... and dressed well. Men and women alike noticed her and would comment on her beauty. The years in Azkaban were damaging. Ruined her teeth, left her much too thin, but she retained her... She was still... I..." He sipped the wine and wished it was whiskey. "I did not love her, Delphini. I will not pretend to have loved her. Nor do I imagine I ever could have loved her. But yes, she was pretty."

"But if you and her had a baby..."

"You and she," corrected Narcissa.

"If you and she had a baby, you must have..."

"I did _not_ love her," he said again. "And she did not love me. We did not even like each other. Our relationship was one of mutual loathing. I realize your aunt has told you otherwise, but in truth a couple does not need to be in love to create a baby. A baby is made..."

"I know where babies come from," she interjected, tossing her hair as if challenging him to argue that she didn't. "I know how they're made."

"As do I," he said dryly. "Fortunately for you."

"Not sure how _fortunate_ it was for me," she said, redirecting her glare from his face to that of her aunt, who shifted uncomfortably in the rocker. So Severus Snape had indeed hated her mother, just as Uncle Lucius said. Which meant he was likely to hate her too, also just as Uncle Lucius said. Delphini crossed her arms over her chest and fought the urge to scream... or cry... or break something. This was almost too much to bear. In a strong, clear voice that belied her delicate emotional state, she added, "Sometimes I wish I'd never been born."

-0-0-0-

Hermione left Helena and Henry on the swings and, with Hero in her arms, pulled Lucius toward the playground fence so they could talk without being overheard, but still allowing herself a good view of her children.

"What are you playing at, tracking us down here?" she hissed, bouncing the little girl on her hip. "You are not welcome in our neighborhood or in our lives."

"I understand that you abhor me, Ms. Granger," said Lucius smoothly, brushing back a strand of his long hair that had escaped his low ponytail. He smiled pleasantly at the girl, who lit up at the sight of steel grey eyes that mirrored his own, having completely forgotten how scared she'd been when they last met. "But like it or not, this precious tyke is mine, and..."

"She most certainly is not!"

"She is, and though I understand how difficult that must be for you to accept, I have been thinking of little else since I learned of her existence. If you will not allow me a hand in raising her, at least let me make payments to you–"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and wished they weren't surrounded by Muggle families, as she'd like nothing more than the draw her wand on him. She hissed, "I am not a whore and therefore have no use for your money, Malfoy."

"For _her_ , Ms. Granger. Payments to you for her. I owe you as much. I owe _her_ as much. No child of mine shall grow up in poverty..."

"We are doing fine financially, thanks. You may return home with a clear conscience. Feel free to never return. Ever. For any reason." She said this with the utmost disdain. 'If looks could kill,' he thought, as he realized wooing her might be more difficult than he'd even imagined (and he'd imagined it would be far from easy).

"Please," he said, trying to muster up some semblance of humility and remorse. "I cannot undo the past and I do not know whether I can ever sufficiently bring you to understand how deeply sorry I am for my actions, but knowing that our mistake..." (Her eyes flashed at the word 'our') "Excuse me, I meant that I am deeply sorry for my actions, but knowing that _my_ mistake resulted in this lovely, innocent girl has kept me up with worry every night since. I do not wish to find myself in Severus' situation a decade from now, with a daughter about to leave for Hogwarts, hell-bent on meeting her father first, wondering why his identity has been kept a secret all this time. It has been very painful for my dear niece, and I wish to spare my daughter such emotional hardship."

"She's doing just fine emotionally," insisted Hermione, though a tiny flicker of concern betrayed her confidence in this. What if Hero did ask about him someday? What if she grew up to wish her mother hadn't kept them apart? No. No, she wouldn't do that, because unlike Delphini she would grow up in a happy, healthy home, wanting for nothing. Severus and his daughter could mutually benefit from developing a relationship, however late in her childhood it happened to be, whereas nothing could be gained from allowing Hero to grow up with any sort of connection to this vile, loathsome, Muggle-hating man who surely must have a hidden agenda, for she couldn't imagine he'd ever give something for nothing. Besides, she could always tell the girl she shared the same father as her siblings. No one would be any the wiser, especially now that all three children shared the name Granger. "My daughter is doing just fine emotionally _and_ financially."

"Is that so?" he asked, his voice silky. "She's never had to go without?"

"No."

"No? She has enough food? Nappies? Toys? Books? Clothing?" He looked her up and down. She was wearing an egg-yolk yellow romper that had been Helena's, but it was still in good condition, albeit a bit faded. "You will be able to sufficiently educate her, to ensure she can afford textbooks, a cauldron, private tutors or a private school until she reaches Hogwarts age? If you're not going the route of private tutelage, where do you intend to send her? Are you sending your other children to school yet? As a Muggle-born you may not realize it, but generally our kind have eschewed public schooling for our little ones, as therein lies too much danger that their accidental, uncontrollable magic will get their secret status discovered by concerned, confused educators... or worse."

Hermione stared at Henry and Helena on the swings. Her daughter was pushing her son, who was giggling and shrieking "Higha! Higha! Again!" Such a good girl Helena was. She should be in school, should be starting this year... but Hermione figured she would have to educate the children at home, as she was already aware of how dangerous non-magic schooling could be for young witches and wizards who'd grown up knowing why they could do things other children could not (unlike children like her, who didn't truly discover their talents until a Hogwarts representative clued them in). Proper schooling, be it private tutors or one of the very few small primary academic institutions for magical folks, was among the things Hermione simply could not afford, even as she was working for Severus.

(Severus, who could end up being the children's permanent father figure... or could just as easily wind up leaving her and breaking all of their hearts. But she couldn't think on that now.)

"I'm not asking to legally claim her or to give her my name, nor am I asking for visitation or to be accepted as part of your family," said Lucius. "Of course, I would love to have any one of those privileges someday, but for now I'm merely begging you to permit me to contribute to the child's care and welfare financially, to assuage my own guilt, so I can sleep knowing she is taken care of. This request is selfish, I realize, but please understand, Ms. Granger, I am not the monster you've made me out to be in your head. I am but a man – a deeply flawed man – and though I have done a great many things of which I am not proud and a great many others of which you would not approve, I am not so cold that I can turn the other cheek as my child goes without healthy food, proper clothing, a suitable education, toys, books, or other necessities. Thus all I am asking – and again, I am doing so selfishly, in an attempt to atone for my own misdeeds and soothe my soul – is to be permitted to ensure she will never want for anything."

"I... she's fine," said Hermione. She opened her mouth to add more, but he cut her off.

"Think it over, won't you? I implore you not to let pride or personal contempt for me color your views. I shall owl you in a week's time to inquire as to whether you've come to a decision."

"That won't be necessary," she said. She nearly added, "So bugger off."

He smiled in a placating way, tugged one of Hero's short, white-blonde pigtails, and backed up several paces. "Such a lovely girl. She looks so much like Draco did at this age, and so much like my grandson, Scorpius. Were you aware that I have a grandson? Born March of last year. They're nearly the same age."

"I..." It occurred to Hermione that the two would be starting Hogwarts together in a decade. Would they still resemble each other then? Would she have to tell Hero the truth lest the girl figure it out herself on the first day of school? "Her hair will likely darken as she ages. My son's has."

"It _is_ possible," purred Lucius. "Though Draco's hasn't, nor has mine. In any case, I shall owl you in one week, Ms. Granger. Perhaps you will not change your mind – and if that's the case, I promise to respect your wishes. But if you'd consent to allowing me to take responsibility, to do the right thing... Well, perhaps Severus' experiences with Delphini today will persuade you. The girl has been so very excited – and nervous – about meeting her father for the first time. A pity she had to wait so long."

Before Hermione could respond to this, Lucius Malfoy stepped behind a tall tree, glanced around to ensure no Muggles were within sight, and apparated away with a loud crack, much to Hero's delight, as this sudden disappearing act never ceased to amuse her.

-0-0-0-

Upon his return to the grounds of Malfoy Manor, he smiled. Though it could have gone better, it also could have gone worse. He'd gotten to her when he'd mentioned education, as he'd suspected he would. If only she would consent to receiving child support, he could push for visitation later... and, in spending quality time with his daughter, perhaps manage to appeal to her mother. He shooed away the three albino peacocks crowding around him, hoping for treats, and hurried toward the Manor. He had to carefully consider the wording of his letter. He could afford no mistakes.

-0-0-0-

"Helena, Henry!" Hermione strode quickly over to her children, wanting nothing else but to gather their picnic things and return home, where she could feel safe again. "Time to go!"

-0-0-0-

After Delphini's uncomfortable confession that she sometimes wished she'd never been born, the trio moved through the book-lined hidden door into the kitchen, where Severus offered them some of the sticky toffee pudding he'd made earlier. Delphini told him she hated sticky toffee pudding and wouldn't eat even one bite, but Narcissa, rolling her eyes, pointed out that this wasn't true at all and asked him to give her some. Once it was in front of her, she couldn't help trying a bite... and then a second bite... and a third... before telling him, "I'm only eating this to be polite so you won't think my aunt raised me with bad manners."

She then peppered him with less sensitive questions on a variety of topics, everything from 'Where did you grow up' ('In this very house,' he'd answered) to 'Why did the Sorting Hat put you in Slytherin?' ('Because I rather thought I'd prefer it over Ravenclaw,' he'd answered) to 'Have you ever been married?' ('No,' he'd answered, but he surprised even himself by adding, 'Though I might like to be, someday').

Upon finishing what she'd been served, Delphini asked for seconds of the dessert, which made Severus smile, though he tried to hide it.

"Do you have any further questions for me at this time?" he asked as he waved his wand in the direction of the coffeepot, making it pour the hot liquid within into mugs for himself and Narcissa (Delphini was drinking butterbeer). "Or shall I start seeking information from you?"

"What do you want to know about me?" she asked suspiciously, her mouth full. She was leaning her chin on her palm with her elbow on the table.

"Eat properly," snapped Narcissa, slapping her on the knee under the table. Quickly as if she'd been Imperiused, Delphini sat up straight, folded her hands atop the napkin in her lap, and closed her mouth as she continued to chew.

"I would like to know everything about you," said Severus. "But let's start with the basics. Your birthday is...?"

She swallowed and answered, "Valentine's Day, 1997. I'm precisely eleven years and six months and two weeks old."

"And your full name is...?"

She gaped at him. "You don't know my full name?"

"I assume your surname is Black."

"It is."

"Have you a middle name?"

"I do. It's Druella. That was my grandmother's name. Or maybe great-grandmother. I don't remember."

"Grandmother," said Narcissa. "My mother. I chose your middle name. Your mother wanted to call you Delphini Riddle Black and I though Riddle was a stupid name for a baby. I didn't know, at the time, why she'd chosen it."

"It was the Dark Lord's name, before he became You-Know-Who," said Delphini, puffing up a bit. "Few people know that, even now, but my mother did, because he told her. He told her things he didn't tell others, things he probably didn't even tell you, Professor Snape. Things he didn't tell my uncle Lucius or Rodolphus Lestrange. He told her _everything_. And when she died, when she was _murdered_ , he screamed! Hers was the only death that upset him. She was the only Death Eater he saved from the Department of Mysteries. He even called her by her nickname, Bella, because they were so close. It said as much in the Daily Prophet!"

"Druella is, indeed, a better middle name for a baby," said Severus, silently thanking Narcissa for the fact that his progeny did not bear the surname of Lord Voldemort nestled between her first and last. "But I'm afraid the Daily Prophet has given you a false picture of the reality of the situations you describe, and though it appears you derive comfort from that, it is not wise to labor under such delusions."

Delphini frowned, bit her lip briefly, then began to recite the mantra still whispered by those in her aunt and uncle's social circle: "The Dark Lord was the greatest, most talented, and most revered wizard ever to..."

"Make no mistake, Delphini Druella Black," said Severus, breaking out his no-nonsense teacher tone for the first time all conversation, "The Dark Lord was nothing more or less than a madman and a murderer and he molded your malleable mother into the same. He was a pureblood supremacist who tortured indiscriminately and cared not for the welfare of others, not even, painful as it may be to accept, Bellatrix. He hurt her in ways many of his followers would be reluctant to do to even to Muggles, though I'll spare you the details on account of your young age. He was not _revered_ , he was _feared_ , which is _not_ the same. He was feared even by those who fully believed in and supported his methods and intentions, your uncle Lucius included. The Dark Lord Voldemort was no hero, he did not love your mother, and his only interest in you, had he survived and you grown up under his watch, would have extended just as far as he thought you could be used to his advantage. He was incapable of love. He knew only of ambition, power, and pain. When your mother died, he was furious to lose his best lieutenant, but he did not take even a moment to mourn her on a personal level."

"No!" Delphini jumped up, knocking her chair to the floor. "You're wrong! What do you know? You weren't there!"

"I was," said Narcissa calmly. "The Dark Lord and Bellatrix lived with me, from her Azkaban breakout until the Final Battle, as did you. He didn't love her, Delphini. And... and I'm truly sorry for letting you believe otherwise." She waved her wand and the chair righted itself. Delphini collapsed onto it. They were all quiet for several minutes, each lost in his or her own thoughts, until Delphini spoke again, her voice small.

"But if he was so awful, why did my mother love him?" She glanced from Narcissa to Severus and back again. "She was smart. She was so smart she left Hogwarts early, because she didn't need school after fourth year, and she was pretty, and she was talented and powerful and his most faithful and most loyal..."

"You mother did not leave school because she no longer needed it."

"Severus," said Narcissa pleadingly. "Please, don't." She did not want her niece to know this part, not at age eleven, perhaps not ever. He ignored her.

"Your mother left Hogwarts because the Dark Lord took her away. Though she was technically willing, she was also a child, thus the fact is, he kidnapped her. She was not much older than you are now, and while she was hidden away with him he taught her to perform dark magic, he made her his lover when she was far too young to consent to such, he taught her to torture and kill, and he likely encouraged her to suppress the guilt that should have overwhelmed her soul as a result of having committed such acts. He used her and brainwashed her and by the time she reached adulthood she was completely and unquestionably devoted to him. He was a great wizard, yes, but not a good man."

"But... but... but that can't be," stammered Delphini. "My mother couldn't be brainwashed. My mother was brilliant! She was so brilliant she didn't need school after fourth year, she left because..."

"She left because he took her away," insisted Severus. "He met her when she was thirteen and took her away from Hogwarts midway through fourth year without her parents' consent, and from then only taught her what he saw fit for her to learn. He treated her both like his ward and like his mistress but never like his equal. He used her youth, her desire for attention and glory, and what was left of her innocence to manipulate her into the servant he desired, and she intended to raise you to be just as devoted to him. That is why, when you were a baby, I asked her..." He broke off, remembering the implication of the question he'd asked Bellatrix, and suddenly unwilling to continue, as he felt 'I asked her whether he'd end up shagging you too' would not be an appropriate statement. Narcissa looked at him pointedly, and thanks to a combination of common sense and Legilimency, he understood her expression to mean 'This is precisely why I didn't tell her the truth in the first place, you motherfucking git.'

"What did you ask her?"

"I asked her... I asked her if she intended to let him abuse you as he had her."

"What did she say?" Delphini's eyes were watering again. She sniffled and he felt an unfamiliar tug in his chest, like he wanted to hold her, as he had on the couch. _This must be how it feels to be a parent,_ he thought. Hermione had told him that parents hurt when their children hurt and he hadn't quite understood, but here, now, despite only having known his daughter an hour, he couldn't deny that it pained him to see her cry, even though she certainly wasn't the first eleven-year-old to shell out tears in his presence.

Narcissa was seated across from him, ignoring her coffee, her head in her hands. Though the girl wasn't biologically hers, it also caused her considerable pain to see Delphini hurting, more, perhaps, than Severus could currently fathom.

"She swore she'd never let him touch you," said Severus finally. "She wouldn't let him hurt you. Him, or anyone else. She was adamant about that, and I believed her. She wouldn't have let any harm come to you."

"Because she loved me?"

"She loved you," he confirmed.

"What about _you_?" Delphini asked defiantly, glaring at him as if fat tears weren't making their way down her cheeks as she spoke. "Do you hate me as you hated her? You're my bloody _father_. Do you think you could ever manage to set aside your undeserved hatred for her to... to... to..." She couldn't finish the sentence. What if she asked him to love her and he said no? Rather than complete the thought, she glowered, feeling pathetic and weak and furious and confused and broken.

She loathed herself for this, loathed how badly she needed the love of her parents, loathed the fact that she barely knew this man and yet wanted to throw herself at him and ask for a hug and beg him to let her call him Father, or maybe even Dad. She was, in a teensiest sense, glad her mother had died, for she could only imagine how disappointed the woman would be to have such a weak, pathetic, love-starved daughter.

"You want to know if I can set aside my hatred for your mother and love you?"

She pressed her palms to her eyes to stop the tears and refused to confirm this. He answered anyway.

"I believe I can." He stirred milk into his second cup of coffee. "That is, if you'll let me."


	30. My Sins Remembered

**A/N:** In case it's unclear, this chapter flashes back to the nights Delphini and Helena were conceived. The next chapter will be formatted normally, and is also a bit more Hermione-centric, since the last was more focused on Severus. Thanks for all of your follows, faves, and reviews! **-AL**

* * *

 **CHAPTER THIRTY**

 **Be all my sins remembered.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

She scowled when she saw the vial.

"Why do you need that?" she asked.

He answered, "Why do you think?"

-0-0-0-

They met after work.

It had been a long day. She couldn't wait to

Relax

and be herself, unlike at the Ministry

Where she had to be 'on' all the time.

-0-0-0-

She flipped him off, the two-fingered salute.

He sneered and swallowed the potion.

Fourth month in a row.

A Wednesday night.

As ordered.

(Fuck, he hated her.)

-0-0-0-

They'd had a lovely time.

Another lovely time.

They'd been dating for two months,

(Though she was technically still married)

And they had been sleeping together for...

Almost two months.

It was fast.

She knew it was fast.

Ginny said it was too fast.

"You and my brother have just split!"

"He was _cheating_ on me!"

"I can't believe you're already seeing someone else!"

" _He_ was cheating on _me_!"

"Give it time, you might get back together!"

 _"_ _He was cheating on me!"_

It wasn't fair. Why should she 'give it time' –

Or even want to –

When he hadn't? Everyone knew he was with Lavender now,

Though there were rumors he was cheating on her.

"I'm not interested in getting back together, Ginny," she said.

"But..."

"Ron didn't respect me. If he had, he wouldn't have cheated."

"But..."

"Reginald respects me."

"But..."

"Reginald would never do something like that."

-0-0-0-

She was dressed differently this time.

No floor-length black dress, no tight bodice, no cutout shoulders

No long sleeves covering the Dark Mark.

He wondered whether she'd borrowed this dress from her sister.

It was dark pink, a rosé color

Silky and short, exposing pale legs, and sleeveless.

She wore makeup, just a touch. Mascara, lipstick.

Her legs were soft.

And smooth.

And she was almost... attractive.

It was unnerving.

Was she trying to… appeal to him?

She must be.

Why else would she dress differently?

"What do you think?" she asked. "Of the dress?"

He shrugged.

He had no interest in divesting her of it.

"You could kiss me, if you want to," she offered.

He replied, "I'd rather not."

As usual, once the potion had taken effect, he gestured toward the bed.

She sat upon it, poised on her knees, facing him.

"I'm pretty," she said.

He shrugged again. "You're not the worst I've seen."

It was the closest to a compliment he could muster.

She sighed. He removed his trousers and frock coat,

Leaving him in his shorts and a black t-shirt.

She adjusted the bra strap slipping down her shoulder

But did not take off the dress.

He joined her on the bed.

He lowered her onto her back.

He placed his hand on her outer thigh.

(Soft, and smooth.)

She parted her legs.

He shoved up the cool material of the borrowed dress

Confirmed she was not wearing knickers

And thrust into her without foreplay.

-0-0-0-

Shortly before the split with Ron, they'd had a row.

A massive row.

This was before she knew he was cheating.

It started when she lit into him about being a slob.

About expecting her to do all of the cooking and all of the cleaning –

Even though they were both working full-time.

"I am your wife, not your mother!" she'd shouted.

"I know you're not my mother," he'd replied. "My mother can cook!"

"Sod off, you sexist Neanderthal."

"You sod off!"

Yes, it started with a fight about his slob ways...

As so many of their fights had...

But it culminated in him telling her she was no good in bed.

"You think you do everything around here!" he'd shouted.

"I do!" she'd snapped.

"You think you do everything and I do nothing..."

"That's correct!"

"But all you do is work and read and nag. You're no fun!"

"I work, cook, and clean! I don't have time for fun!"

"You're no fun!" he'd shouted at the top of his voice. "And you're rubbish in bed!"

"What would you know?" she'd snapped. "You've never been with anyone else!"

How wrong she'd been.

And this was in the back of her mind on every date with Reginald.

What if Ron was right? What if she was no fun?

What if she was a terrible cook?

What if all she did was read and nag?

What if she was, indeed, rubbish in bed?

What if no man ever wanted her again? Or what if men wanted her until they had her...

Then changed their minds, on account of her being rubbish?

So she threw herself into lovemaking with Reginald.

She wanted to be sure he'd always leave her bed satisfied.

-0-0-0-

She gasped.

She hadn't been ready.

It kind of hurt –

But not in the good way.

Usually, he would touch her first. Not much…

Just enough.

Not this time.

She bit her lip.

His eyes were closed.

So she closed hers.

He was not thinking about Lily, as she thought he might –

Thinking about Lily would be too painful.

He was thinking about Narcissa.

At this point, he'd never fucked Narcissa

(Never even imagined she'd be willing)

But she was reasonably attractive

And, he suspected, this was her dress.

Besides, he had to think about _someone_.

Bellatrix, meanwhile, tried to picture the Dark Lord

Twenty years before, when he was still attentive to her

Still attracted to her.

But that hurt too much –

Also not in the good way.

So she bit her lip harder, tried not to cry

And silently prayed to the gods she didn't believe in

That this would be the month she finally conceived.

-0-0-0-

Reginald took her to a park for a sunset picnic.

It was an unseasonably warm April day.

He'd packed their food. Cheeses, crackers, a bottle of champagne...

Strawberries. Cherries. Chocolates. Long stemmed glasses.

They'd talked for hours, until well after dark

Wrapped in their traveling cloaks.

Then she invited him back to her flat.

He undressed her slowly, uttering terms of endearment the entire time

Marveling at her beauty, but noting that he found her more attractive

For her brain.

"You're brilliant," he said. "I've never spent hours

Discussing wizarding philosophy and history

With a fellow Muggle-born. Most purebloods aren't even

Aware of this stuff. You're well-read.

You're not like the other women I've known."

He released her hair from the confines of its braid

And placed a tender kiss on the side of her neck.

"I could make love to you all night," he said,

"And never be completely satisfied."

"Are you saying I fail to satisfy you?" she asked cheekily,

As he unbuttoned her pale pink long-sleeved blouse.

"No. I'm saying the more I'm with you, the more I want to be with you...

The more I _need_ to be with you. It's never enough."

"That's the champagne talking," she teased.

"Not at all," he said. He slid the blouse off, tossed it to the floor.

She did the same to his grey jumper.

"It's not the champagne making me heady," he added. "It's you."

-0-0-0-

It took him longer than usual.

Not by choice.

He simply couldn't… finish.

Couldn't bring his body to comply.

Damn it.

Suddenly,

He felt her lips on his neck.

Tentatively. Tenderly.

Why?

They'd never kissed. He wasn't interested

In kissing her.

He opened his eyes. She was staring up at him

Her heavy-lidded brown eyes wide.

"I'm _pretty_ ," she whispered. "Don't you think so?

He ceased movement. He sighed.

"I can't give you what you need."

He wasn't referring to the baby she desired.

He meant he couldn't pretend to want her.

-0-0-0-

Ron was right, she decided.

Sex with him had been rubbish.

He wasn't a master of foreplay,

But, to be fair, neither was she,

And though she didn't know it until later –

She hadn't had a proper orgasm the entire time they were together.

They were both virgins until shortly before their wedding.

Sex was fun and felt forbidden at first, but

They really didn't know what they were doing.

Reginald knew what he was doing.

He taught her to do what he liked. And he did things to her...

Things she'd never thought about doing.

Soon she developed her own likes.

She liked it when he shagged her from behind

When his cock plunged deeply into her quim

While his hands held firmly onto her hips, leaving marks.

It was... primal.

And she liked it when he ran his tongue along her earlobe

And breathed alternating words of affection and obscenities in her ear.

And she liked it when he pulled her hair, but not too hard, while she was sucking him.

He never once told her she was rubbish in bed –

And he didn't expect her to do all of the cooking

Or clean up after him

Like a mother.

He was never dismissive of her love of learning

Or her desire to curl up with a good book

Or her career ambitions, her big dreams and lofty goals

Her lack of desire for the large family Ron had been hoping for,

And he completely understood and supported

Her determination to keep herself out of the society pages.

-0-0-0-

She didn't make noise,

But there were tears in her eyes.

And they escaped down her cheeks

Which made him feel like a monster –

As if _he_ was the one who'd asked for this.

"Do you want to stop?" he asked, hoping she would say yes.

(Hoping she would say yes, but not tell the Dark Lord.)

She shook her head. "I want a baby."

Frustrated, he pulled out, flipped her onto her stomach,

And resumed.

For reasons he couldn't explain, though, he reached between her body

And the mattress,

And touched her, intimately.

Rubbed her. Pleasured her.

Her hair fell across her face, so he couldn't see her tears

But he had a feeling she'd stopped crying.

Her breathing changed.

She whimpered, then moaned. She wriggled against him.

He increased the speed of his fingers and that of his thrusts

"Please," she said. "Please, please..."

He didn't know what she was begging for.

For a baby, he supposed.

He sighed. He was doing the best he could –

Especially considering he didn't want to be doing it at all.

He continued the movement with his fingers.

Her hips bucked involuntarily in response.

"Oh…" she cried. "Oh… oh… okay… yes…"

Finally, he was almost there.

So was she.

"Yes… yes… ye–no! No! Stop! Snape, stop!"

He stopped. He retreated to the edge of the bed.

She rolled onto her back, chest heaving, eyes glistening.

For a few moments, neither moved.

Then she sat up, facing him,

Placed her hand on his hip against the fabric of his shorts

And encouraged him to start again.

"I've read that a woman is more likely to conceive…

In the missionary position."

"Very well," he said dryly. "Let's get this over with."

-0-0-0-

"Wait, stop... I need the potion," she said. "It's in the loo, on the shelf."

"I'll get it."

He rolled off the bed and stretched.

He was naked and hard and everything about him exuded manliness

Without being cartoonishly so,

Whereas with Ron she'd still felt like she was in bed with a boy.

Not in an inappropriate way, but in the sense that together

They both still felt like teenagers, long after they'd come of age.

She traced her fingertips lazily around one of her nipples

While she awaited Reginald's return.

It took him longer than it should have – perhaps he couldn't find the bottle

Even though it was right there

On the shelf

Where it always was.

Finally, he returned. He handed it to her.

She downed it. It tasted... different, somehow. Vaguely sweeter.

But no, surely that was because of the champagne,

Still on her tongue from the picnic

And the strawberries. Yes, that was it.

It tasted slightly different because she could still taste

Champagne and strawberries.

He climbed on top of her

Touched her, kissed her

Entered her...

"I love you, Hermione," he said.

"I know it's only been two months, but I love you."

Her mouth dropped open. This was... unexpected.

"Reginald, I..."

"Hermione, I want us to be together. I only want to be with you.

And for you to be with me. Exclusively, officially. I love you."

"I... I... I love you, too," she said.

It wasn't quite true. She didn't love him, not yet.

Though she wouldn't mind dating exclusively.

Officially.

To be officially exclusive.

It sounded... nice.

-0-0-0-

Finally, with a shudder, he came.

She covered her eyes with her Marked forearm

Tilted up her pelvis

And held her breath.

It was May, 1996.

She had to get pregnant this time.

She _had_ to.

She couldn't keep doing this.

He moved off her, reached for his trousers,

Stared at the ceiling,

And waited for his breathing to slow to regular.

"Snape?" She turned on her side, facing him, and placed a hand on his bicep.

"What if I'm too old to have a baby?"

He pulled away.

She was seeking reassurance.

He wouldn't give it.

-0-0-0-

She slammed her head back on the pillow

As a powerful orgasm overtook her.

She called his name. He whispered hers.

He remained inside her, even after he came,

Content to remain connected for as long as possible.

"We are going to have a beautiful future together," he said.

"I've been dreaming of finding a woman like you,

Since my divorce. I almost can't believe you're real."

"Of course I'm real," she said. "As real as

Magic

And dragons

And giants

And mermaids

And unicorns."

And they'd both laughed because, having grown up Muggle

They knew what it was like to think these were but fantasies

From old storybooks for children –

Not to be taken seriously.

"You're my magic mermaid unicorn," he said.

"And you can be my magic giant dragon," she said.

He finally rolled off, held her in his arms, and kissed her cheek.

"I meant it when I said I love you, Hermione."

-0-0-0-

He was nearly to the door when she called his name.

His first name,

Which she rarely used.

He turned back. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed,

The rosé-colored dress fanned out around her.

She puffed up her chest

Exhibiting more confidence than she felt.

"Severus? The Dark Lord loves me."

He fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"He does," she insisted. "He's loved me for a long time…

He simply doesn't know how to say it."

Severus shook his head.

"Bellatrix, you don't know what love is."

She lowered her eyes, unable to face him.

He added,

"That's one of the few things we have in common."

-0-0-0-

Her cycle was late.

But she was in denial.

Then her next cycle was late.

(Is it still considered 'late' if it never arrives at all?)

Fuck. This couldn't be good.

-0-0-0-

He hated hearing her cry.

He stood in the hallway, his back pressed against the door

And listened.

"You're heading back to Hogwarts?"

"Narcissa!" She'd startled him. Guilt flickered across his face. "I was just..."

"I know, Severus. You should go. I can sense that you want to."

"I didn't..."

She cut him off. "I'll stay with her. You've done nothing wrong...

It's not your fault she's in there crying."

He nodded, hurried down the hall, to the stairs,

Out the front door, across the grounds,

To the apparition point behind the gate.

He wished he could Obliviate himself.

-0-0-0-

"Pregnant? I'm pregnant?"

It didn't make sense. She'd been taking the potion.

She'd taken the potion every time. Every single time.

Every time with Ron. Every time with Reginald. That one time with Viktor.

Every damn time, without fail. She was careful.

She couldn't be pregnant.

But the mediwitch nodded. "Pregnant. No question."

"Oh." Her cinnamon brown eyes filled with tears. "I was sort of hoping...

I was sort of hoping I just had a disease."

"Nope," said the mediwitch. "No disease. Just pregnant."

Just pregnant.

Pregnant.

Not married, no contact with her parents, and pregnant.

She needed someone to talk to.

So she confided in Ginny, but her old friend was cold:

"I'm sorry your child and mine won't be cousins."

Then she confided in Harry, but he was confused:

"I thought you told Ron you wanted to wait?"

She was crying when she told Reginald.

She was certain he'd want her to get rid of it

And she wasn't certain she could

Even though she certainly didn't want a baby –

Not now. Not yet.

But he was ecstatic.

"Let's get married," he said. "I wanted to marry you anyway."

"I'm barely divorced, Reginald!"

"But we _have_ to get married, Hermione. We're having a baby."

"I don't understand how this happened," she said. "I was careful."

He wiped her tears and kissed her forehead.

"Chin up, my magic mermaid unicorn," he said. "We're going to be a family."

-0-0-0-

He didn't want a baby.

-0-0-0-

She didn't want a baby.

-0-0-0-

He'd done his duty, though.

Every month, as ordered.

He'd managed every month.

-0-0-0-

She decided to keep it, though.

They'd get married, like he wanted.

She'd be his magic mermaid unicorn.

-0-0-0-

He had to take a potion.

Her potion hadn't worked.

"You don't know what love is."

"I... I love you, too."

And now he had a daughter.

And now she had a daughter.

"Be all my sins remembered."


	31. Stay and Speak

**CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE**

 **Speak of it; stay and speak.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Ron and Harry surprised Hermione on Sunday morning by showing up unannounced, armed laden with treats from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and Honeydukes.

"What are you two doing here?" asked Hermione, stepping aside to grant them entrance. "I thought you'd forgotten I exist."

"What? 'Mione, of course we know you exist!" said Ron, dropping his pile on her kitchen table.

"Don't call me Mione. You know I can't stand it. Nearly as much as I can't stand having people drop in on me without warning, especially if I haven't seen them in ages."

"Hermione," sighed Harry. "Please don't be sore at us. It's hard, you know, with jobs and kids and stuff. It's not like we aren't friends anymore, we just..."

"Stop. I know you two better than I know myself and if there's one thing I know, it's that the two of you wouldn't simply turn up at my door for no reason. What's going on? And why do you come bearing gifts?"

"Because we like you?" answered Ron, shooting her a sheepish grin. She cocked an eyebrow and pursed her lips, a look she was steadily getting better at mimicking, thanks to...

"Whoa, you're already starting to look like him!" said Harry, placing his gifts beside Ron's. "This is more serious than we thought!"

"What? Who? Whom?" asked Hermione, genuinely confused, thus dropping the facial expression she didn't realize she'd picked up from her new boss.

"Where are your kids?" asked Ron. "How many are there now? Four?"

"Three."

"I've got one. A girl. Rose Fredericka."

"I know."

"But we want more. Five. We've settled on five. You know I've always wanted a big family."

"I know," said Hermione. She sighed. "The children are napping. We were up early this morning to run errands, then I took them to the Transit Museum because my son loves all vehicles that drive, float, fly or speed underground, and the museum is full of fun things relating to trains, trams, and busses. After that we had lunch at a French place then went for a swim. We only got home about an hour ago, but I expect Helena and Henry will be waking up soon."

"Good," said Harry. "We can talk without interruption for awhile."

"About?" Hermione stuck her wand back in her bun. She'd drawn it as soon as the wards around her flat warned her that wizards were approaching. She'd been afraid it might be Lucius... and hoping it might be Severus.

"Let's sit down." Harry led the way to her sitting room. He settled on one end of the couch and Ron took the other, leaving her to transfigure the toy chest into a chair. She sat facing them, her back to the fireplace, and regarded them carefully.

Harry had aged, but not badly. His tousled hair was closer-cropped than it had been in his youth, giving him a more mature, professional look. He still wore glasses and his scar was still visible above his brow. He dressed as Muggles do, in trainers and jeans and a grey crew neck shirt. His green eyes swept over her, but not as if he were checking her out... she felt as though he was a Healer assessing her health. She wondered if it was an Auror thing. Perhaps this was the way he stared at anyone he was about to calmly question.

Ron was staring at her too, but in a different way, a way that annoyed her even more, as his goggled expression seemed to be an odd mix of attraction (his jaw was even slightly dropped, his brows slightly raised) and utter confusion, as if he wanted to ask when she sprouted an inexplicably attractive third breast – and why. He, too, was dressed like a Muggle, but his jeans were bright purple and his crew neck shirt was a garish shade of orange that clashed hideously with his ginger hair. He matched the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes sign, which, she figured, was intentional and meant he'd probably just come from work.

Hermione was wearing the same pale yellow and white frock she'd worn on her first day of work for Severus, showing off her now even more tanned legs and upper chest, and she was barefoot. She wore no makeup and her hair was hastily pulled into the bun simply to keep it off her neck, as it was a sticky hot day. For some reason being in the presence of her childhood best friends made her fingertips go to the MUDBLOOD scar on her forearm. She absentmindedly traced the word and waited for them to come clean about why they'd come, but no explanation seemed to be forthcoming.

"Well?" she said finally. "Out with it, then."

"Can't old friends catch up over tea once in awhile?" asked Harry. "Why so suspicious?"

"We're having tea?" Ron glanced over his shoulder toward the kitchen as if he expected tea to materialize, then looked expectantly back at her. "Or... no?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. How had she managed to spend three years married to this man? He never failed to annoy her. Had it been this way when they were at school? Had she simply not noticed, or overlooked it? He'd infuriated her at times, that she remembered. He had the emotional range of a teaspoon at age fifteen and didn't seem to have grown with age, though perhaps fatherhood would (slowly) mature him.

"I could make tea," Hermione said after a pause. "But first, tell me why you've dropped in. The truth."

"Actually, that's why we've dropped in," said Harry. "For the truth."

Her heartbeat sped up, pulsating in her chest, almost causing her pain. Could they know about Hero, about the man who fathered her, about how she'd been conceived? No, they couldn't. Surely Malfoy wouldn't have said something... unless...

Unwilling to tip her hand, she put on her best Severus-using-Occlumency expression and said simply, "About?"

"About Snape!" Ron exclaimed. Hermione felt herself relax a moment, before confusion set in.

"About Snape? I work for him."

"You _work_ for him?" Ron was not as adept at keeping his cool as Auror training had taught Harry to be. "Friday night, Ginny was at Morgana's with some of her former teammates from the Holyhead Harpies. She saw the two of you together! She said you were eating an intimate dinner. She said he was staring at you like... like... like in the way a professor shouldn't be staring at a student!"

"In that case," said Hermione, actually wishing she had made tea so she'd have something to do with her hands besides trace the scar, "I suppose we are both very lucky that he is no longer a professor, nor am I a student."

"So it's true then?" Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You're seeing Professor Snape? I can't believe it. Ginny told me, but I couldn't believe it, and I still can't."

"What if I am? What's wrong with Prof– with Severus?"

"Nothing!" said Harry quickly, but Ron's expression clearly said, 'Everything!'

"He's a good man." Hermione tucked her legs up under her bum on the chair, pulled her wand from her hair, and waggled it in the direction of the kitchen, setting water to boil on the stove. Since it seemed they'd be staying awhile, tea didn't seem like a bad idea. "I've been working for him for months. We've become friends. The children like him. He's still in recovery, but getting better all the time. He... he neither holds me up on a pedestal, nor tries to take me down a peg, like most of the men I've met since the war ended. He's genuine, and he regards me as an equal, nothing less or more... and I need that." She stared down at the floor with this admission, somewhat ashamed for having made it.

Both Ron and Harry had met Reginald on several occasions before they wed, as the Golden Trio was more committed to maintaining their friendship back then despite the divorce, and though Ron's only comments had been things like "He's got hair like Lockhart!" and "Do you really fall for that poetic rubbish he spews?" Harry had taken her aside privately to express his concern, as he thought Reginald had a rather odd habit of building Hermione up only to belittle her moments later, as if he couldn't decide whether she was to be revered or degraded – neither of which sat well with Harry. (Ginny, who'd had more trouble with the split than Ron had, only met Reginald once and commented, "He seems like the sort of person who'd be insufferably condescending while explaining to you all the reasons you should appreciate what a good feminist he is," which Hermione had found highly insulting at the time, but later couldn't help thinking had been a spot-on description.)

Many men had done one or the other - revered or degraded, insincerely built up or savagely tore down. Many men did this. Countless men. Men who asked her out after Ron. Men who asked her out after Reginald. Men who worked at the Ministry. Men who served on the Wizengamot. Men she ran into on Diagonal Alley or in Hogsmeade. They either saw her as a mythical heroine to be worshipped but not related to, or as an uppity Mudblood bitch who needed to be returned to her rightful place. She couldn't stomach either.

"What do you even have in common?" asked Ron, who looked slightly ill. "Have you bloody shagged him?"

"We have plenty in common, and whether we've _bloody shagged_ , as you so eloquently put it, is absolutely none of your business!" She was turning as red-faced as he was green.

"That's a yes, then?" Ron stood up, knocking a throw pillow to the floor. "Bloody hell, Hermione! He's _Snape_! You know, _Snape_? The miserable old greasy-haired git who taught us potions and bullied Gryffindors and spent his whole life as a double agent only because he was so hard-up for Harry's mum! How could you even... even... let him... I mean..." Ron shuddered, unable to stop picturing his ex-wife with the former potions master. "I mean, damn, Hermione! Can't you do better?"

"Severus Snape is a hero," said Harry, shooting Ron a warning look. "Look at what he did, risking his life all those years, living in misery, to atone for his past..."

"Because he felt bad about getting your mother killed, mate! Not because he was a decent person! If Voldemort had spared her and just killed you, he would've kept right on being a Death Eater! Even though his best friend was Muggleborn. Plus, he's... I mean, no offense, Hermione, but he's _Snape_!"

"Yes," she said emotionlessly, wishing the damn tea would be ready already... so she could throw it at Ronald. "I know who he is, thanks."

"He's old! He's the same age as Harry's mum and dad! And he's ugly! Remember him in school, flapping around the halls..."

"I don't recall any flapping," she interjected. He went on.

"His nose is longer than George's old Cleansweep Seven! He's whiter than Nearly Headless Nick, he's less cheerful than the Bloody Baron, and he was more afraid of a good shampoo than he was of Voldemort's snake! Do you let him... do you let him... do you let him... you know? You know!"

"Lower your voice," she said calmly. "You'll wake the children."

The teapot whistled finally. She waved her wand to remove it from the stove without having to get up and set it to pouring the hot liquid within into three bright blue mugs she'd taken from her parents' house while they were in St. Mungo's after the war, before their recovery was deemed impossible. Teabags flew from the box on the counter, one into each mug, as she'd forgotten to put them in ahead of time as she usually would. Then she added milk to hers and to Harry's, leaving Ron to manage his own sugar because, frankly, she didn't care about how he took his tea and wouldn't mind if he choked on it (if choking on tea were possible).

"How do you even... I mean, with three kids... do you... does he... does he come here?" Ron was pacing back and forth behind the couch, while Harry continued to regard her with an expression that was far too kind, like he continued to be worried about her mental health. Both annoyed her.

"He has been over for dinner several times. As I believe I already said, the children like him, especially my son. He plays with them. He's not so sullen and miserable away from Hogwarts, in great part because he is no longer trapped in a position he despises."

"Oh?" asked Ron, his fists balled in anger, the green tint to his face turning to purple. "And what _positions_ doesn't he despise?"

"That's none of your business." Hermione's voice was clipped. She was struggling to continue controlling her emotions. She waved her wand to summon in the tea. Harry thanked her, but Ron sent his to the end table, choosing to keep pacing. She continued. "I work for him. We've become friends. I rather like him. He's not the person he used to be, not that we ever truly knew the person he was. And yes, he and I went to dinner together the other night. Yes, it was a date. Our first, actually, not that I owe you any explanation, and yes, in regards to dates with Severus, I do hope there will be more."

Ron, glaring, opened his mouth, no doubt to say something even stupider than he already had, and her stoicism crumbled. She added savagely, "As for his favorite positions, I've yet to fully experience intimacy with him, but _he_ is perfectly content to do what _you_ wouldn't, and do it quite well."

Though Harry was not one-hundred-percent certain what this thing Snape did 'quite well' was, he did have a pretty good idea, thus couldn't help saying "Ew" under his breath... not only at the thought of Hermione doing that with Snape, but at the thought of her doing it with Ron, too.

"That's vulgar!" shouted Ron, so magenta in the face he reminded Harry of his late Uncle Vernon. Hermione pointed her wand at Ron's neck and said, "Silencio!" He continued to move his mouth, but no sound came out.

"My children are sleeping!" she hissed. "If you raise your voice like that again, I'll Stupify you!" She flicked her wrist, cancelling the silencing charm, and Ron rubbed his throat as if it had hurt (even though only his pride was wounded). He settled back on the couch and sipped his cooling sugarless tea. Harry took over leading the conversation.

"We are only concerned about you, Hermione. Severus Snape is a good man, as you said. I owe him my life, as does Draco, and countless others. But that does not necessarily mean he is a good man for you. You did not attend his trial. I did. There were several things brought up about which you might not be aware..."

"He keeps no secrets from me," insisted Hermione, though she knew this was likely untrue. "And I keep none from him. We are, at the present, merely friends. But I... I think... I believe it is probable that we will become more. And if the two of you wish to continue considering yourselves among my friends, however peripherally, you'll be supportive of that."

"I am!" insisted Harry, though he said it with a look of apprehension. "We worry about you, that's all."

"You worry so much I haven't seen nor heard from you in... how long?"

"I sent you my son's birth announcement in August!" said Harry. "Didn't you receive it? I included a personal message on the back, inviting you and the children for dinner. I'd hoped you would respond."

Hermione averted his gaze, unable to answer. She had, indeed, received something from him by owl, but she'd tossed it in a drawer, intending to open it later, and then forgotten about it. It hadn't been intentional; it's just that the owl arrived only moments after Narcissa Malfoy departed, the morning she told Hermione that Severus was pissed and depressed over being without her and learning he definitely had a daughter. Her mind had been... elsewhere.

"We named him Albus Arthur," said Harry. "He's smaller than James was, but healthy."

"Harry wanted to name him Albus Severus," said Ron, not hiding the bitterness in his voice, "But Ginny said absolutely not, she would not give her child the name of that man simply because he'd gone to the grave an undercover member of the Order, and she thinks it's creepy how he pinned over Harry's mum all those years. They were only friends, after all. Nothing romantic ever even happened between them! He was obsessed. That can be dangerous, Hermione. You should know how dangerous it can be to date an obsessive man. Reginald was..."

"Severus is _nothing_ like Reginald," snapped Hermione. Ron had hit a nerve. She almost wished she could tell her old friends that Lily and Severus had indeed been more than friends, at least for a few moments the summer between fourth year and fifth, but she would not betray her boss's confidence.

"We named him Albus Arthur," Harry said diplomatically, "Because it seemed fair to have a son who shared his name with Ginny's father, since obviously James got his from mine."

"Albus Arthur is a nice name," said Hermione, trying to smile, to lighten the mood. "I'm certain he's as beautiful a baby as James Sirius was."

Hermione and Harry were well into a conversation about their kids when, suddenly, Ron piped up again.

"I can't picture you in bed with Snape." He glared into his empty mug.

"Good," said Hermione. "I don't _want_ you to picture me in bed with Snape. I don't want you to picture me in bed at all. You're married, and not to me. Remember? How is Lavender, anyway?"

"She's fine."

"Great. Well. Nice of you to stop in." She rose, her brown eyes narrowed in Ron's direction. Ron stood too, glaring right back.

"We were concerned about you, Hermione, that's all," said Harry, also rising. "We've grown apart a bit, , but we still care about you. And if you say you're doing alright, that's all we need to know. Right, Ron?"

Ron grunted.

-0-0-0-

Severus hadn't slept well. Though his visit with Delphini hadn't gone badly (on the contrary, it had gone better than ether he or Narcissa had expected) he was concerned. It bothered him that the girl seemed so pathetically love-starved. It bothered him that she was so desperate to believe that her mother had been a wonderful woman. It bothered him that she'd grown up witnessing the same sort of domestic violence that had plagued his own troubled childhood.

And it bothered him that even after he gave her the gift and she promised to write and they said goodbye, she called him "Professor Snape."

Not that he could expect to have a proper relationship with her after only one meeting, and the fact that she'd asked permission to send him owls from school was more than he even deserved, but a part of him (a part he hadn't realized existed) wanted desperately to hear her call him Father... or, better still, Dad.

She'd gone upstairs to use the loo before they left, which afforded Severus a couple of uninterrupted minutes with Narcissa.

"How could you let her go through life believing all that rubbish?" he'd snapped, grabbing her arm more roughly than he should have. "She thinks her mother was some sort of brilliant, misunderstood heroine! She thinks the Dark Lord was capable of having loved them both! She thinks your sister and I must have loved each other to have conceived her together in the first place!"

"And what was I supposed to tell her, Severus? Was I supposed to tell her that the Dark Lord abducted my troubled sister from school, that he probably started raping her when she was thirteen, that she was completely devoted to him no matter how badly he treated her? Was I supposed to tell her that she was conceived after her mother spent four months fucking at least four different men on the Dark Lord's orders, including her uncle? Was I supposed to tell her that you never loved her mother, but you did, however briefly, love me?"

"I never..." he started, but she cut him off.

"You told me you did. Or don't you remember?"

"It was once and I was drunk," he said. "I took it back the following day."

"Oh, yes, I know," she hissed. "I remember. It was also shortly before you knocked me up and forced me into an abortion."

"I didn't force..."

"Have you ever considered how difficult this decade has been for me, Severus? Raising the daughter of my former lover, a man I loved who didn't love me, looking at her every day and wondering how much our own child might have resembled her?"

He tried to respond but she barreled on.

"The whole damn wizarding world got to move on, to live in the light again after the Dark Lord fell, but I remained confined to a home headed by a man who blamed me for his every misfortune, who viewed me a traitor even though my testimony kept him from a lifetime in Azkaban, a man who treated, and continues to treat, me as abhorrently as the Dark Lord did my sister? Do you think I wanted Delphini to know that her mother was just as weak and pathetic and broken and needy and trapped and _desperate for affection_ as I was? As I _am_?" Narcissa sounded on the verge of tears.

"What was I supposed to have told her, Severus? That she was born into a family riddled with centuries of abuse committed by men against their wives and by mothers against their children? That, being pureblood and well-off, she's being raised in a system of oppression, in which girls are seen merely as property to be traded away for galleons to other 'old line' families who need breeding sows for their pampered, spoiled sons? Was I supposed to tell her that her beloved mother, whom she can barely remember, murdered Muggles indiscriminately, including children, or that she once held me down while the Dark Lord..." Narcissa could no longer hold back. A sob escaped her throat as her shoulders shook violently.

Severus, though thoroughly uncomfortable, pulled her to his chest in a tight embrace, unable to keep his mind from flashing back to the afternoon when they'd made the Unbreakable Vow, when his secret lover had pounded at him with frail fists and sobbed into his shirt and kissed his hand and begged for his help, while her sister, whom he now knew to have been pregnant with his child, sneered judgmentally at them from her place against the bookshelf.

"I did the best I fucking could, Severus," said Narcissa, extracting herself from his hold and glaring in his direction. "You're such a stellar parent now that you've got a lover with children? How about _you_ take responsibility for your daughter for the rest of her youth? Thankfully she'll be spending most of the next seven years away at school, thus you won't have to over-exert yourself. I've raised her this long. It's your fucking turn."

"I'm sorry, Narcissa," he said quietly, and these three words diffused her anger. "I truly am. For everything. I'm sorry I told you I loved you when I did not. I'm sorry I took you to bed when I should not have. I'm sorry I ignored your owls for so long, that I refused to consider the possibility the girl was mine, and that you've had to raise her on your own. And though I'm not sorry that we... that we did not have our own child a decade ago, I am sorry that you felt I forced you into an abortion. I'm sorry I got you in that way in the first place."

"No matter," said Narcissa, wiping her eyes, as they could hear Delphini starting down the stairs. Her face went blank and he knew she was employing Occlumency in an attempt to control her emotions before the girl reentered. "Don't apologize. It's long over now. And for what it's worth, I don't think I ever really loved you anyway. I just wanted to know what being in love could feel like, so I fooled myself into thinking..."

Delphini reached the bottom stair and turned through the bookshelf lined door into the sitting room.

"Alright Auntie?"

"Of course, Delphini. Do you have any other questions for your... for Severus?"

"Yes." Delphini put her hands on her hips and stared up at him with eyes that mirrored his own. "A serious question. _Why_ do you have those hideously cutesy pink and yellow striped decorative towels in your bathroom, Professor Snape? Are you not a man... and a Slytherin?"

"My... personal assistant picked them out." He cringed inwardly at having used such a title for Hermione. While it was not exactly wrong, it also wasn't exactly right. But what else was she? His girlfriend? They'd been on one date, so it seemed too soon to use that term. His friend? Considering the number of times they'd found themselves naked and in bed together as of late, that seemed like an unacceptable understatement. And he certainly wasn't going to try to explain the nuances of their relationship to the girl. Thus the label he'd gone with seemed to fit best.

Apparently Narcissa thought differently.

"Personal assistant," she said with a snicker. "Indeed. Hope you're paying her well."

"She's adequately compensated," he replied, unable to stop himself. Her lips thinned into a line and he couldn't help smirking though he felt a twinge of guilt in the same instant.

"I'll bet," said Narcissa after a beat. Her eyes briefly darted from his face to his groin and up again. "I remember."

Delphini didn't seem to pay this exchange any mind. "Do you really want me writing to you when I'm at school, Professor Snape? I could send a letter... once a week?"

"That would be most appreciated, Delphini. And perhaps we can visit again over the Christmas holiday?"

She smiled, which unnerved him slightly as it increased her resemblance to her mother – she had Bellatrix's lips and her pre-Azkaban teeth, though the way the corners of her eyes crinkled... reminded him of his own mother.

"Yes," she answered, standing up straighter. "I think perhaps I would like that."

-0-0-0-

The following day, since Hermione did not have a sitter and couldn't stand the thought of going even longer without seeing Severus and finding out how Delphini's visit had gone (and telling him about her own surprise weekend visits from Harry, Ron, and Lucius) she brought the children with her to his home at precisely three.

He could not hide how pleased he was to see them.

The five of them spent the afternoon together, not at his home on Spinner's End, but nearby, at the playground where he used to go with Lily Evans. It was his first day with the new pain potion (though he did not yet tell her he'd tried it) and he was feeling better than he had in, well... years. Decades, maybe.

He pushed the children on the swings and laughed as Hermione chased them around, pretending to be a niffler as they pretended the leaves in their hands were gold. He subtly used magic to patch up Hero's knee when she fell and cut it on cobblestone on the walk home, and he carried Henry on his shoulders, and he had an awkward conversation with Helena about her disappointment to learn that his date with her mother hadn't been "terribly romantic" because there'd been no goodnight kiss.

He and Hermione made dinner together and ate with the children, then he read aloud to them from Dickens' traumatic saga of Oliver Twist, until Hero was asleep in her mother's arms and the little ones' eyelids were drooping.

"Stay the night?" he asked. Hermione's heart fluttered in her chest. She should say no. She really should. She should not make it a habit to stay overnight at his home with her children. She did not want them to know she was content in his bed. Shw felt it sent a bad message, especially to Helena. She also did not want them – especially Henry – to grow too attached, just in case.

But she also hadn't really had the chance to talk to him yet, not without the children around, and... and she wanted to be near him. She wanted to fall asleep with him and wake up with him and not feel as though she was doing something wrong, no matter what Ron and Harry seemed to think.

She didn't want to fall too fast... but she _did_ want to continue to fall.

"We'll stay," she whispered, not taking her eyes away from his. He set down the book, rose from his chair, and kissed her on the temple before lifting a drowsy Henry from his spot on the couch. Just as groggy, Helena stood, took her mother's hand, and let herself be led toward the stairs, no questions asked. Once they were all asleep in his childhood bedroom, their clothes transfigured into pajamas, Severus and Hermione retired to his chambers. He reclined on his bed, leaning against the headboard and pillows, and smiled.

"This new pain potion you brewed seems to be working," he said. "And, it appears, I'm not dead."

"Good." She crawled on top of him, making her way up from the bottom of the bed like a panther talking prey until their lips were a whisper apart. "I'll stay the night... but no sex."

"Of course," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "I am clear on the rules. No sex. Not even when you beg."

" _If_ I beg," she corrected. He smirked.

" _When_ you beg."


	32. What We May Be

**CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO**

 **We know what we are, but know not what we may be.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

"He doesn't care about the girl," Lucius said, his back to his wife. He was looking out the window onto the grounds of Malfoy Manor from the master bedroom he once shared with Narcissa. A room that once felt more like home to him than any other in the Manor, but was now a bitter reminder of the marriage he no longer had. It was a massive room with a massive bed, lit by floating lanterns, with dark cherrywood twin wardrobes set directly across from the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was the room in which they'd consummated their marriage... the room in which she'd conceived their only son... the room in which she'd nursed his precious heir... the room they'd exchanged countless words of affection and declarations of love in their younger years... and it was the room in which he'd once beaten her so badly, she'd needed reconstructive magic to repair her shattered face.

Neither liked to think about that.

She'd curled up in the bed – formerly _their_ bed – shortly after dinner the night of the trip to Spinner's End, but he hadn't discovered her there until he returned the following morning, sated from an evening spent with his newest mistress.

"He wants to appeal to the Mudblood, to let Granger think he's a decent man, potentially a decent father, so she'll fall into bed with him. He's using the girl. He has no true emotional connection to her, nor will he ever. Your niece is a means to an end. A manipulation tool. He'll only pretend to care about the child for as long as need be to ensure his intended conquest forgets what a vile man he truly is. It's a brilliant plan, really."

Narcissa very nearly pointed out that Lucius was describing what _he_ would do, not what _Severus_ would, but she held her tongue. She wrapped the blankets protectively around her shoulders though it was warm in the room, and regarded her husband with caution, contemplating her response. She did not wish to anger him. She was not sure why she even wanted to discuss the visit with him. Loneliness, she supposed. She had literally no one else to confide in, save, perhaps, for Draco.

"I think he regrets the past," said Narcissa carefully, "And though he was long in denial, I believe he thinks he can atone for it by developing a relationship with her now. It's a good thing, isn't it? Assuming it works out well? Perhaps she'll spend part of Christmas break with him so you and I can go on holiday somewhere?"

"You want to go on holiday with me?" Lucius drew the curtains back a bit more, craning his neck to see his daughter-in-law, Astoria, and grandson Scorpius, out for a walk on the grounds. He wondered why they were out without Draco.

"I feel trapped, Lucius. I need to escape once in awhile. We used to travel every December, remember? Before Draco was born? And when he was small? We vacationed in Spain, France, Italy, Ireland, Greece... We even took those trips to Egypt and Lebanon, remember? Draco loved the food in Lebanon."

"I remember. I remember because that's when you were a docile, dignified, obedient wife who loved me." He kept his back to her, watching as two albino peacocks sauntered across the grounds, fluttering their feathers, delighting little Scorpius who chased after them on wobbly legs.

"I'm still dignified," she said, half-smiling. He couldn't help smirking in response. She went on in a pitiably hopeful tone, "Perhaps we could learn to love each other again, Lucius?"

"Why?" Letting the ornate brocade curtain drop, he turned to face her. "After thirty years of marriage, nearly fifteen of which have been plagued by steadily growing mutual loathing dappled with betrayal from both sides, why should we _want_ to learn to love each other again? Why now?"

"Because, Lucius," Narcissa pouted. "Because one of my sisters is dead, the other wishes I were, I haven't got a single friend, my sweet son is all grown up with his own family, and tomorrow my little girl leaves for Hogwarts, thus for the first time in thirty years, you'll literally be _all_ that I have."

"I wish I could tell you I'm sympathetic to your plight, my dear." He strode over to the bed and kissed her tenderly. She could smell the perfume of another woman on the neck of his tunic, but she pressed her lips back to his anyway, wanting to be wanted. Too soon, it was over. "I'd ask you to forgive me my disinterest, Narcissa..." he said coldly, "But I genuinely do not care."

-0-0-0-

Hermione clutched the pillow beneath her head and clenched her teeth, determined not to make a sound, afraid to wake her children despite the silencing charm Severus had placed on the room. With the hand not on the pillow fisted in his hair, which was tickling her inner thighs, she wriggled and writhed into his mouth. She hit her peak, eyes closed and crying out his name, as his lips moved from her sex to her belly, over her chest, up her neck, to her own parted lips. When he kissed her mouth a moment later, she could taste herself on his tongue. Upon parting, she longed for more.

"The new pain potion..." She pinched the bridge of her nose in a futile attempt to calm the lightheadedness brought on by her orgasm. "It's still working?"

"Too well," said Severus. "I am afraid I've over-exerted myself today and shall pay for it in the form of sore muscles tomorrow, but it has been worth it." He relaxed beside her, his fingers splayed against her rib cage, just below her right breast. Though she was completely divested of her dress, bra, and knickers, he was still dressed from the waist down. When she attempted to rectify this, he protested, holding her hand between his own.

"No sex," he reminded her.

"There's plenty we can do without sex," she pointed out. "You know that."

"Not tonight."

"What? Why?" She turned onto her side, facing him, concern dotted across her face. She wiped the sticky sweat from her forehead before brushing his hair from his eyes. "You're... not interested?"

"I am afraid I feel... too good... for that... this evening," he answered slowly, deliberately. "I worry... I worry I will not want to stop."

"Then don't stop," she whispered. "Let me make you feel..."

He didn't let her finish the thought. "No. Not tonight. I fear... losing... control. And as the contraceptive potion is not yet ready – not until tomorrow evening – and as we've already agreed upon no sex, not even when you, inevitably, beg, I do not think it would be wise to... to tempt fate with further foreplay. It has been a long time for me, Hermione. I do not trust myself as I once did. I do not have the control I once had. I am but a weak man."

"You are anything but."

"Anything but a man?" He gasped dramatically, hand to his chest as if he'd just been stabbed, or Stunned. "Hermione. You degrade me so. I'm wounded."

"Anything but _weak."_ She swatted at his chest. "You knew what I meant, you cheeky bastard."

"I need a cold shower." He rose from the bed and stretched, unable to hide the evidence of his arousal, which strained most uncomfortably against his trousers.

"I'll join you." She stood too, and reached for his dressing gown to cover her nakedness.

He shook his head. "If you join me in the shower, I'll end up fucking you."

She planted herself between his body and the bedroom door and said teasingly, "Should you attempt anything inappropriate with me, good sir, I swear I shall scream."

"Should I attempt anything inappropriate with you, madam, you shall, indeed, scream." He'd lowered his voice to a growl, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her to him, holding her there, his grip too tight. She squirmed as his cock, still restrained by his trousers, pressed against her belly. "You shall scream _my name_ , over and over and over again, and not even the strongest silencing charm will keep you from alerting the neighbors to your... extreme... _pleasure_."

Her breath hitched in her throat. Though he was undoubtedly intimidating, nearly as much now as she'd found him in her youth, this prospect excited her. She pressed her breasts to his chest, lowered her chin, and blinked up at him, the picture of (faux) innocence.

"You know," she said quietly, running her hands up his bare chest... and down again. "If you're not _interested_ in bedding me even when I stand before you, offering myself up, I shall have to wonder why, especially as pain does not presently seem to be the issue. Perhaps you... don't find me attractive? Or perhaps your... _stamina_... still needs a bit of work? How shall we work on increasing it, Severus? What might help you to...?"

He caught her wrists as she was about to unbutton the placard on his trousers, holding them so tightly she wondered if there would be marks, and the words she'd been about to utter died on her lips. For several seconds they simply stared at each other. Then he released her wrists, lifted her as a prince might do a princess he was in the process of rescuing, and carried her back to the bed. He threw her down unceremoniously, lowered himself on top of her, and kissed her hard, a kiss she heartily reciprocated.

"You're a tease," he groaned between kisses, and her hands explored him and his parted the dressing gown she wore. "Do you truly want me to take you now?" His lips moved to her jaw. "Do you want to take the risk?" His lips moved to her neck. "Do you think you can trust me to pull out in time when I am telling you I cannot trust myself?" His lips moved to her clavicle. "Is that what you want, Granger?" She arched her back, her fingers entangled in his hair, her legs wrapped around his waist, and moaned. "Is it?" He thrust his hardness against her. "Well?"

"I don't know what I want," she answered, sounding pained despite the pleasure. "I don't want to get pregnant. But I want to _be_ with you. I want _this_."

"I cannot promise not to get you pregnant. Not tonight. Not even if we agree to stop short of sex. Not even if you scream. I cannot promise." Her hands went to either side of his face and she pulled him down into a rough kiss. When they parted, he repeated, "Not tonight. I cannot promise."

"Tomorrow," she breathed, as his wandering mouth made its way back up to the front of her throat, then to the side of her neck. "Tomorrow... tomorrow... come for dinner tomorrow? Bring the potion. And... afterward... after they're asleep..."

"When you arrived... in my sitting room... that first day... looking... so... pure..." He groaned as she rubbed him through the fabric of his trousers, making his cock twitch as his body begged for hers. "I had no... idea... how... how... oh... fuck... don't stop... I had no idea..."

"Neither did I. But I'm happy, Severus. You make me happy."

"Move in with me?" His lips were on hers before she could respond to his request. His hand moved to her chest, his slightly calloused fingertips grazed over her areola, and for a moment he worried he was going to cum in his pants, unable to handle the way she was stroking him... faster... harder... faster...

"It's... too... soon," she breathed. "It's too soon to consider... It's too soon to... oh... Oh... OH... yes... Yes! There..."

His fingers had traveled from her breast to between her legs. He fucked her harder with his first two fingers than he ever had before, bringing her closer and closer to her second orgasm of the evening.

While she cried out into her palm, which was clamped over her mouth, he sucked hard at the soft skin of her tan shoulder, leaving the sort of love bite his teenaged Slytherins used to earn detention for not having covered up in class. She had tears welled up in her eyes from the sheer ecstasy of it, and could hardly remember how to alternatively inhale and exhale.

He climbed off of her immediately upon bringing her to release. She whimpered, shivering as the cool night air wafting in through the partly-opened window tickled her sweat-drenched skin.

"I need a cold shower," he said, breathing hard and slightly dizzy. "Unless you'd like to birth my second bastard child in nine months time, I do not suggest you join me."

She made a noise that was supposed resemble the word 'alright' and closed her eyes, her arm slung over her face.

When he returned to the room, she was asleep. He opened the window all the way and parted the curtains, double-checking that the charm that kept anyone from being able to see in was still working, then toweled off. He threw on a pair of Muggle pajama pants and grabbed a black cotton crew neck, which he transfigured to be longer, for her to use as a nightdress. He knelt on the bed.

"You're back," she murmured. Though it was dark in the room and he'd moved around quietly, she'd sensed his presence in her sleep.

"We got... carried away."

"Yes," she agreed. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not. Though I am glad we... stopped."

She opened her eyes. "Do you really think I'm a tease?"

"Not intentionally," he answered. He handed her the imitation-chemise. "I believe we had retired to this room to talk in private, not to... engage in other activities."

"Yes." She pulled the nightdress over her head. "That was the plan."

He crawled under the covers and pulled her to him, her head resting comfortable on his shoulder, her arm around his waist with his hand on her lower back.

"How was your shower?"

"Lonely and cold. How was your nap?"

"The same." She snuggled against his side, content to be held by him. "Tell me about your daughter. Is she the spoiled, disrespectful, pureblood-supremacist I'd expect to come out of Malfoy Manor, or did she inherit your wit, sarcasm, intelligence, beautiful heart, and classic good looks?"

"You've seen her," he pointed out, running his fingers up through Hermione's thick, tangled hair. "You know she was fortunate enough not to inherit my... looks. Save for her eyes. Not the shape, but the color, and the lines in the corners. They're mine. And my mother's. She seems to be a bit sarcastic, yes, and her heart is... I believe she has a great capacity to love combined with the strong desire to be loved, though I wouldn't argue that my own heart is beautiful. I can't speak to her wit, but she _did_ question my masculinity when she spotted the towels _you_ hung in the loo, which I suppose some people would find funny, and she seems to be a bright girl who likes to read."

"Tell me all about her, Severus." Hermione placed her small palm over the center of his chest, feeling his heartbeat through his skin. "I want to know everything."

He lifted her hand, kissed her palm, and placed it back over his heart. "Someday, I'd like you to meet her."

-0-0-0-

On the first of September, 1991, Narcissa kissed her son's forehead and bade him goodbye while standing on Platform 9¾ in front of the Hogwarts Express.

Then she and Lucius apparated home.

And she spent the rest of the day in tears.

On the first of September, 2008, Lucius did not accompany her to the train station. She and Delphini went alone. It was the girl's first time in a Muggle train station and she did not understand why pushing a massive trunk and carrying an endangered owl in a gilded cage earned her so many curious looks from passers-by, but she did not relish the attention.

Once on the platform, those staring were the parents of first year Muggle-borns, who looked at once terrified and impressed.

"Muggles and Mudbloods everywhere," Delphini whispered to her aunt. "Where're the kids from _real_ magical families?"

"Careful, my girl," murmured Narcissa. She held her head high, haughty as her niece's mother once was, looking down on those around them (purebloods included) while pretending she couldn't feel the judgmental eyes of everyone who recognized her boring into her back.

"Careful, how?" asked Delphini cluelessly.

Narcissa sighed, then launched into the same talk Lucius had given Draco around this age, when he'd advised him not to speak negatively of Harry Potter within earshot of anyone outside their already established circle.

"We must be prudent. That sort of talk – and that word in particular, you know the one – won't go over well in school, especially in front of professors like Flitwick and Longbottom or Headmistress McGonagall. Besides..." She glanced around to ensure they were not being overheard, then bent down to speak directly into the girl's ear. "Remember who your father is. You're not exactly a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight yourself."

Delphini's face flushed. She'd had difficulties coming to terms with her parentage, and though she'd admitted to her aunt the night before that she'd genuinely liked her father upon meeting him and looked forward to writing him, she felt conflicted and confused upon learning that she was as mixed-blood as most of her future peers, thanks to her paternal grandfather. She wondered if her mother had known the truth about Severus Snape's blood-status when she did... _you know what_... with him.

"There are certain things we must keep to ourselves in an act of self-preservation. Draco has done well to improve our family name by donating Malfoy money to everything from the War Orphans Foundation to the school's Continued Restoration Fund to the Society for the Integration of Muggles into Magic, which helps families of Mudbl... Muggle-born students understand what their children's lives will be like once they leave for Hogwarts and how to remain involved, and your uncle has gotten himself back on the school Board of Governors and into a honorary position of power in the Ministry, but there will be those who will talk behind your back, who will gossip about you and about us and about your mother and, yes, even about your father, and the things they'll say... not all will believe we've been reformed. Not all will be forgiving."

"What if no one likes me, Auntie?" Delphini whispered back, her eyes – heavy-lidded with long lashes like her mother's, black in color with lines in the corner like her father's – impossibly wide. "What if everyone thinks the Dark Lord is my father? What if some... what if some of the other students' parents were tortured by my mum? What if Professor Longbottom hates me because of what she did? What if the other kids and the teachers all think she was evil? What if they think _I'm_ evil? What if they call me a Death Eater? What if...?"

"We went over all of this all weekend. Hold your head high. You have done nothing wrong and have no reason to feel ashamed. If they make such assumptions, assure them that the Dark Lord is not your father and your mother's actions are not your own – aside from that, your business is not their business. And for fuck's sake, keep... keep your thoughts on blood status to yourself, even in your common room... It is not wise to do otherwise, and besides..." Narcissa bit her lip, unable to believe she was even about to say this, after fifty years of believing in pureblood supremacy... "Besides, your views may change while you're at school. You may become friends with Mud... with Muggle-borns. And... and that's alright. You should... expand your worldview. You should... treat them as you would anyone else. As... as if there's no difference between Muggle-born and... and being like us. You must act as if we're no better." The face of Hermione Granger flashed before her eyes. "Believe it or not, sometimes the most capable students are Muggle-born."

"I'm frightened, Auntie."

"No, you're not." Narcissa kissed the girl on her forehead, just as she'd done to Draco before sending him off. "Fear doesn't run in your blood. Your parents are two of the bravest people who've ever lived. Nothing scared your mother. She was fearless and bold to the point of arrogance, confident in her abilities from the moment she first held her wand at age eleven, brilliant, and talented, and her blood flows through you. As for your father... he stared death in the face and accepted it. He spent nearly twenty years and two vicious wars risking his life every day to do what he believed was right. He never backed down from a challenge and only ran away when the alternative was to hurt someone for whom he cared, thus even in retreat he exhibited courage. He protected the sons of two of his enemies, and he lied to the Dark Lord countless times without breaking a sweat. His blood flows in you, too. You can't help but be brave, Delphini. You're skimmed that book Severus gave you - you know you come from two long lines of impressive witches. You're a Black. And a Snape. You have nothing to fear."

The train whistle blew. It was time to board. Delphini looked panicked. Narcissa promised her she would love it once she settled in, but the girl did not look convinced.

"I love you, Auntie. You know... you're the only mother I can really remember."

"I know, my dear girl." Narcissa placed a second kiss on her niece's forehead and half-wished she'd asked Severus to accompany them today. "I love you, too."

-0-0-0-

Severus relayed Delphini's entire visit to Hermione nearly verbatim, including her tearful questions and the misconceptions she held about his relationship with her mother, and he even shared with her the uncomfortable conversation he'd had with Narcissa, even though it meant admitting he'd once, quite in error, told the woman he loved her.

"I took it back the following day, as soon as I'd sobered up, but the damage was done."

He even shared the strange hurt he'd felt when Delphini called him "Professor Snape" as they said goodbye.

"Did you tell her she could call you Father?"

"No. Should I?"

"If you want her to call you Father, you'll need to be a father to her... and part of being her father is letting her know she can count on you like a father. Exchanging letters will help. And perhaps she could visit us over Christmas?"

Severus felt a tug in his chest. She hadn't said perhaps Delphini could visit _him_ over Christmas... she'd said _us._

After this, Hermione told him about her visit from Harry and Ronald ("the Chosen One and the Dunderhead" Severus labeled them, not hiding his annoyance at their sudden 'concern' for her well-being) but for reasons she neither understood nor could explain, she did not mention that Lucius had popped up at the playground the day before. She'd planned to tell Severus, she'd been looking forward to it, actually, as she wanted his reaction (she was certain Lucius had approached her for nefarious purposes, and not because Severus' agreement to meet Delphini inspired him to play parent to his own illegitimate daughter, but wanted his take). However, they were having a nice evening, cuddling and chatting, after an ideal afternoon spent behaving like a real family, and she supposed she didn't want to risk spoiling the mood.

No. No, there was more to it than that.

But what?

She wasn't sure.

So she kept it to herself for now.

-0-0-0-

She was sorted into Slytherin.

Four other girls were, too.

After dinner, they were led by their Head Girl to their common room and dormitory.

Then the other girls paired off, two sets of instant friends.

And Delphini, after two hours spent reading alone hidden away by the curtains around her four-poster bed, cried herself to sleep.

-0-0-0-

Around four in the morning, Severus awoke to the rather unpleasant sensation of being prodded in the side. He'd been dreaming about being tortured by Voldemort, except instead of the Cruciatus Curse, the Dark Lord had been poking him in the ribs with the end of his wand, asking him whether he knew where the Mudblood Granger was hiding, while Bellatrix cackled madly in the background, a baby held to her swollen breast, as Narcissa, battered and broken, cowered in a corner over Draco's dead body.

Severus turned his head to the right as his eyes adjusted to the dark, and saw the sleeping form of Hermione beside him, her bushy hair flared out across the pillow. It was a relief to find her here, to remember he was not alone. However, though the dream was over, he could still feel the pain in his side.

He glanced down and was surprised to realize his would-be lover was not the only guest in his bed. Between the couple, curled up, with his feet facing the headboard, was Henry. He must have been dreaming too. He was mumbling incoherently and what Severus, in his nightmare, experienced as being poked by the Dark Lord's wand was actually caused by the toddler's twitching toes. Severus sat up. Should he carry Henry back to the bed he was supposed to be sharing with Helena? What if lifting the boy woke him up and he was then unable to go back to sleep? Severus sighed. He would have to risk it.

Severus lifted Henry and was disappointed to find it hurt to do so. Apparently the pain potion had worn off while he slept, leaving him in a state of full-body soreness. No, he certainly couldn't carry the boy down the hall like this. His weak arms might drop him. He sighed again, more deeply this time. He'd felt so strong only a few hours earlier, with Hermione swept into his arms.

He rotated the boy so that his head was up and his feet were down then fixed the blankets so that they were all covered. Henry stirred but did not open his eyes. Severus was drifting back to sleep when the boy snuggled against his side, hand on his chest, the way his mother had during their talk earlier.

Severus smiled to himself in the darkness. He replayed his earlier conversation with Hermione in his head. After their chats about Delphini, Narcissa, Harry and Ron, Severus had again asked Hermione to consider moving in with him, and she'd again said it was too soon.

"We're not even... I mean... What _are_ we?"

"I don't know," he'd answered. "I told Delphini you were my personal assistant."

Hermione had laughed. "So if I moved in with you, what would you tell her then? That I'm your human house-elf? She might think it odd we share a bed. I assume her aunt and uncle don't do that with their house-elves. Unless, of course, they're disturbingly kinky."

"Making jokes about the subjugation of house-elves?" He'd cocked an eyebrow. "My, how far the mighty have fallen."

"You may call me your girlfriend," said Hermione, ignoring this. "If you so desire."

"I _do_ so desire," he'd said. "And I look forward to using the term in the near future. Preferably in front of a certain former Gryffindor. Perhaps while shopping for a gift for my daughter at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Do you reckon I can work it into conversation over the register? Something like, 'I'll take three of these packs of exploding bubble gum, two of the candies that induce vomiting, a box of those fireworks your brothers used to fluster Umbridge... and a lovely portable swamp for my _girlfriend,_ Hermione Jane Granger, formerly Weasley, of London' – too subtle?"

"Considering how dense Ronald can be, it might indeed be too subtle," she said, giggling. "You know, for a man born without a sense of humor, you're awfully familiar with the joke shop's merchandise."

"If I'm being perfectly honest, I found Fred and George Weasley rather funny, especially when they were tormenting that pink-adorned toad-faced sadist your fifth year, though obviously I couldn't admit as much at the time... and I thoroughly regret having sliced off one of George's ears the night Potter fled his aunt Petunia's home. I was aiming for Nott. He was about to murder Lupin."

"Does he know that?"

"I believe it was brought up during my trial, but it's all a blur. I haven't actually spoken to him, nor have I visited the store. I presume I would not be welcome. Do you concur?"

"I like you," she'd replied quietly, not actually answering, before pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I'm not even remotely ready to think about moving in with you, but I _like_ you. And I'm glad to be your girlfriend."

"Well, there's that then," he'd said dryly. "It's not cohabitation, but it's a start."

"What's the rush? Aren't you the same man who dated a woman for six years without ever becoming anything more?" She was referring to Charity, of course.

"Yes. But I was much, much younger then. A completely different man. I was still unhealthily obsessed with my childhood love. I hadn't yet survived a near-death experience, killed a mentor, betrayed a master, fathered a child, broken the heart of a married woman, taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, been in a coma, spent a decade recovering in self-imposed near-solitary confinement, or shagged you."

"You still haven't shagged me," she pointed out.

"I know," he said. "But I intend to. Soon."

And then he'd kissed her and she'd kissed him back and though they spent several subsequent minutes lazily and comfortably snogging after that, this time it did not lead to more. They'd eventually fallen asleep intertwined. In their slumber they'd ended up retreating to opposite sides of the bed on separate pillows... now kept apart by the tiny body of Henry John Granger, a child currently as desperate for a father as Delphini Black had been all her life.

Before exhaustion overtook him, returning him to the same old dreams about the war, Severus wondered whether it would be possible to be the man both Delphini and Henry needed... to be the father Helena and Hero would surely need in the future as well. To truly be the partner Hermione hadn't had in either marriage, the one she'd always deserved.

Fuck, he thought, just before succumbing to sleep. It was happening. For the first time in his entire adult life, it was actually happening. Fuck. How could this be happening? And how would he handle it? What the fuck had happened to his life since _she_ entered into it mere months ago? Who was he? What had become of the bitter, sullen, solitary man he'd been for nearly three decades? The man dangerously obsessed with his childhood friend? The man who played both sides, careful never to tip his hand? The man who hadn't wanted to be saved? The man who'd long ago accepted he simply wasn't meant to have a family, or a future, or any sort of personal happiness?

Fuck. It was undeniable.

She'd saved him more than once.

She'd saved him from the snake's attack.

She'd saved him from the daily pain.

She'd saved him from his melancholy.

She'd saved him from his crippling self-loathing.

And he was grateful to be alive.

-0-0-0-

She'd spent the afternoon and evening in tears, same as she had upon sending Draco off to school as a first year.

Long after she'd settled into bed, alone, Lucius joined her.

She closed her eyes during intercourse.

She bit her lip.

She pretended he was someone else... anyone else.

He closed his eyes, too.

He bit her shoulder.

He pretended she was someone else...

Hermione Granger.

-0-0-0-

Severus Snape reached across the pillows, past sleeping Henry, and stroked Hermione's soft cheek in the dark.

Fuck. It was undeniable.

He was forty-eight years old.

He was a father.

He had a girlfriend.

He was finally able to escape his pain...

And he was falling in love.


	33. Not a Mouse Stirring

**CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE**

 **Not a mouse stirring...**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Though Hermione and Severus were getting on well, they still argued, and not just about the pain potion (score one for me, thought Hermione, when it was still working on Day Two without any significant side-effects).

They argued regularly.

About anything.

Everything.

Stupid things.

Secretly, she enjoyed it.

She suspected he did too, as he would occasionally say things she was certain he didn't mean, but stated simply to get a rise out of her.

On Tuesday, while Hero and Henry napped and while Helena was doing a puzzle on the floor in the sitting room, Severus struck up an argument while he and Hermione re-degnomed the garden.

"You know," he started, "I believe Dumbledore left me enough that I could afford a house-elf. I could get a young one to do all this work instead of us. That would leave more time to spend with the children, or to go out, now that I'm feeling better."

"You know how I feel about house-elves," she replied in a warning tone.

"Yes," he said. "You believe they have feelings and all that rubbish. That's why I was thinking it might be best to wait until they go on sale, get two for the price of one, this way they won't be lonely and can share the work load. Not sure where to keep them, though. I believe Muggles have doghouses outdoors – perhaps I could configure something similar and leave it out here for them to live in? There's no room inside, and as I learned when I was stuck with Wormtail, it can actually be a burden to have servants underfoot all the time. I'm certain the elves have charms they can use to keep their doghouse warm when the snow comes."

"You can't be serious!" Hermione's eyes were large, her face was going purple. He fought the urge to smile.

"Of course I'm serious. You of all people should know that they possess their own magic. It's not exactly a stretch to assume they're able to keep themselves from freezing to death overnight if given permission. And do not fear – I'll only beat them when it's warranted, never simply to assert my dominance or for sport."

She was halfway into an impassioned rant about the importance of recognizing their rights and ending wizard-led slavery when the mischievous twinkle in his eye clued her into the fact he'd been putting her on. She broke off. He snickered.

"You're a six-foot-tall fifty-year-old child," she snapped.

"I'm six-foot-two," he corrected. "And I'm not fifty until January 2010. Don't rush me."

"I'm glad you think you're funny, because I don't."

"You've got a point," he said, completely straight-faced. "Why should I purchase two obnoxious little house-elves to share my home when I've got you here to do all my…"

But what he was about to say he had her there to do, she didn't find out, because she chucked a gnome in his direction and ducking out of its way caused him to fall to his knees in the dirt. He swore, though he wasn't angry.

"Now my trousers are a mess, Ms. Granger. I hope you intend to clean them, since it's your fault." Still kneeling, he reached for his belt. "Here, I'll take them off, and you can…"

"You're an impossibly infuriating man," she cut him off. "And if you would like for me to do _anything_ for you while you haven't got your trousers on, you'll amend your position on house-elves and apologize for working me up into a tizzy! You did the same thing to me last week when you said you supported that stupid new legislation Thorfinn Rowle suggested to keep women from serving in the Wizengamot because we're too bloody emotional!"

"How shortsighted of Thorfinn," said Severus dryly. "If only he'd spend some quality time with you, he'd see that women are hardly ever emotional at all."

"Bugger off, you great bat!" She wound up her arm and chucked another gnome over the fence. "And while you're at it, grow up. You're only sixteen months away from fifty, you six-foot, two-inch child."

"I'm sorry," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Please, forgive me. I didn't mean it, I have no interest in owning a house-elf, or any other living being – not even a cat – as I hate the responsibility of feeding things, and I am genuinely apologetic. For this and for my borderline-misogynistic comments last week, which I'd said not because I meant them, but because I was bored and you entertain me when you're angry. It won't happen again."

She thanked him, forgave him, and helped him to his feet. However, the moment she'd bent down to catch another gnome, he added, "Of course, I am also sorry that you're completely unsympathetic to the plight of unemployed house-elves, that you'd rather they be out freezing to death in the streets with nothing but knitted socks and lumpy hats than to let them be warm and safe working for me wearing tea towels with bare feet and living in a doghouse with permission to use warming charms. Poor, poor little house-elves... I bet _they'd_ be willing to wash my trousers."

"That. Is. It!" She raised her wand and sent a stream of water his way via a nonverbal Aquamenti. It soaked both knees of his pants. "There!" she said. "Now the dirt is gone!"

"Now the dirt is mud." He raised his own wand. "I will be sure to mention this unprofessional behavior should McGonagall ask me to give you a letter of recommendation – you're still interested in the teaching position, are you not? But in the interest of fairness…" A burst of gold glitter erupted from the end of his wand and settled like dust in her humidity-frazzled hair. "I'll add that you're worth your weight in gold."

"What an utterly ridiculous spell," she admonished as she shook off the glitter.

"Thank you. I developed it myself when working for the Dark Lord. Like Muffliato and Sectumsempra, I thought it might come in useful someday."

"When, exactly? Like if an eight-year-old girl's unicorn-themed birthday party were to suddenly breakout in the middle of battle?"

He smirked, one eyebrow cocked arrogantly. "Awfully critical coming from a witch who's never developed _any_ of her own spells."

"Oh really? Avis!" A flock of paper birds shot from her wand and dive-bombed him. Though she hadn't technically invented the bird-creating spell, she had mastered the unusual skill of controlling the creatures, thus making them useful as an attack. Their paper beaks pecked at his arms and face, causing a couple of paper cuts. He begged her to call them off.

"I surrender! I'm sorry! You win!"

"Sorry?" she said casually, letting the birds continue to peck at his shoulders for a few more seconds. "Can't hear you. Did you cast a Muffliato, or is the flapping simply too loud?"

He shot a jelly legs jinx her way, but she dodged it and responded with a bat bogey hex she'd learned from Ginny a lifetime ago. He managed to block it, but barely, and the battle was on. She'd just locked his legs together when he managed to hit her with Levicorpus. Upside down, she levitated to him. He uttered Finite Incantatem when she was above his head and caught her in his arms, no easy feat considering he couldn't separate his stuck knees. He tipped her to one side and she hopped onto the ground.

"All teasing aside, you really and truly _are_ an overgrown little boy."

"And you really and truly _are_ beautiful when you're angry," he said. He reached up to shake a bit of gold glitter from her hair, then stroked her cheek. "I like to see shades of the woman who helped bring down the darkest wizard ever to roam the earth, the one who refused to quit even when the war seemed unwinnable, the one who used to believe wholeheartedly that rules were rules and meant to be followed... but also meant to be broken. I am enamored with the calm, collected woman you are, but I know that the feisty, headstrong part of you still exists, and I like to see her on occasion as well."

"Oh?" she raised one eyebrow to mirror his. "You don't want to see the desperate, depressed single mother I was a few months ago, or the overeager girl always begging your attention I was in my first year?"

"I wouldn't mind you _begging_ my attention," he said, running his thumb over her bottom lip. "But I like to forget I knew you in your first year."

"You called me an insufferable know-it-all."

"That was in your third year, not your first."

"What's that? Correcting me? Who's the know-it-all now, then, eh?"

"It's still you." He leaned forward, his mouth a book's width from hers, his voice low. "But I appreciate the trait more now that you're approaching thirty than I did when you were thirteen." He kissed her gently, reverently, one hand cupping her cheek, the other on her hip.

"Tonight, perhaps, I'll show you all that I know," she murmured when they parted, "And then you'll be the one begging for attention." They kissed again, this time with parted mouths and moans and tongues, with wandering hands, and mutual want.

"Fix my legs?" he requested once the short snog session was over. He leaned back but left one hand held securely on her waist, not only to keep her close, but to help keep his balance.

"Why should I?" she asked, glancing up at him in an expression mixed of defiance and desire. "What's in it for me, Professor?"

"If you fix my legs, I'll pick you up again, take you upstairs, and show you precisely what's..." He's been planning to say, 'In it for you,' but a vision out of the corner of his eye stopped him in his tracks. He cleared his throat. "I'll show you precisely what's needed to remove the dust bunnies from under all the beds!"

"What?"

He jerked his head ever so slightly to his right, her left. She followed his eye and spotted Helena by the door, her doll in her arms.

"Oh! Yes, the, er, dust bunnies. We must tackle them today," said Hermione. "Helena, love, how long have you been standing there?"

"You were kissing!" said Helena, rocking her doll and blinking dreamily up at her mother. "Was it terribly romantic, Mummy?"

"Terribly!" Hermione confirmed, unable to hold back a chuckle. She waved her wand and Severus felt relief as his legs unlocked. "Come along. I think it's time to wake your siblings. If they nap too long they'll be up at night."

"Can't have that," said Severus. "We have plans tonight."

-0-0-0-

Delphini sat in her first class, Charms, and took notes. Every word Professor Flitwick uttered was jotted down on parchment, as her quill scribbled hastily across the page. She seemed to be writing more than the other students, but that was fine. She wanted to be sure she didn't miss a single thing. Who cares if any of them did?

During lunch, just like breakfast, she sat at the Slytherin table and listened to the chatter around her, wondering if she should be trying to join into conversation or await an invitation. Aunt Narcissa had always been adamant that children do not speak unless spoken to, that was always the rule when members of the Wizengamot or Uncle Lucius' connections from the Ministry were visiting for dinner, but she wasn't sure if this applied when surrounded by fellow kids. She'd never really been around other kids before, save for baby Scorpius. She'd never had a friend or been to a school or even played on a playground. She felt completely out of her element.

After lunch was double Herbology with Professor Longbottom, who did a double-take and dropped a ceramic pot when he saw her.

"Forgive me," he said, waving his wand to repair the damage. "It's just that you look so much like... like someone I used to know."

"I look like my mother," she said. "Bellatrix Bl... Lestrange. People knew her as Bellatrix Lestrange. My name is Delphini. Delphini Black."

"Yes," said Professor Longbottom. "Bellatrix Lestrange. That's precisely who." He cleared his throat, said it was nice to meet her, then ushered the rest of the students into the greenhouse, and began their lesson. He did not so much as glance at Delphini Black again, not even when he asked a question and she raised her hand to provide the answer. After this happened for the third time, she stopped raising her hand. As she had at breakfast and lunch, she felt invisible.

During dinner, finally, someone spoke to her. But not a fellow Slytherin. It was a couple of girls from Gryffindor who came over to her spot at the very end of the table just before dessert.

"Your name is Delphini Black, right?" asked the shorter girl, who had short brown hair and a developed figure that made Delphini feel most unsophisticated and babyish. "You're the daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange. My little sister said she heard you telling that to Longbottom."

"Yes," confirmed Delphini, puffing up slightly at the mention of her mother. "She's my mother. Or... she was."

"Who's your father?" asked the other girl, who was taller, and prettier, and slender like a model. "If your last name's not Lestrange, who's Black? Like Sirius Black?"

"They were cousins," said Delphini. "Black was my mother's maiden name and the name she gave me."

"It's true then, isn't it!" gasped the taller girl. "You-Know-Who _is_ your father!"

"No!" Delphini shook her head, causing a bit of her wild dark hair to dip into her soup. She didn't notice. "No, people thought so, I even thought so for awhile, but he wasn't! She wanted him to be but he couldn't so they picked someone else." She inwardly cringed. Why did she have to admit she used to think the Dark Lord was her father? Why did she say that he and her mother 'picked' someone else? Why did she feel compelled to tell them that her mother had 'wanted' a baby with Voldemort? The girls exchanged a glance, one of disgust, and Delphini wished her first charms class had covered making one's self disappear.

"I bet your mother didn't know who your father is," said the shorter, curvier girl. "I bet she was a psycho _and_ a slag."

"She knew who he is!" insisted Delphini. "And so do I. I write him every week."

"Then maybe not a slag," said the taller girl, tossing her long, lovely, white-blonde hair. "But most definitely a psycho. She was a murderer and she was killed for it, right here in this very room during the Final Battle. I know. It was _my_ grandmother who did it, because your mother was about to send the Killing Curse at my aunt, Ginny."

"Your grandmother killed my mum?" asked Delphini, her voice small, ordering herself not to cry in front of these two awful girls, these probably mixed-blood girls, these vile Gryffindors. Her wand hand twitched, even though her wand was not in it, as she waffled between fury at the fact they'd labeled her mother a psycho and the devastating realization she would have to spend every meal for seven years sitting in the room where Bellatrix was murdered. She jutted her chin up haughtily, and asked with disdain, "Are you a Weasley?"

"Yes," the tall blonde answered. "I'm Victoire. My birthday is the last day of August, so I'm the youngest in our whole year."

This came as a surprise to Delphini. The girls were both so much taller than she was, so much more mature looking, she'd never suspected they were in their first year too. But then the second said, "And I'm Matilda Wood, third year. My sister Melody has Herbology with you. She says you're weird."

"Oui," said Victoire, tossing her beautiful hair again. "Melody says you talk funny and you don't blink enough, you just write-write-write even when you're not supposed to be taking notes. She says Professor Longbottom wouldn't even call on you. She says he probably hates you just like he hated your _psycho_ mother."

"Don't insult my mother," said Delphini, as angry tears welled up in her eyes. She grabbed her wand from the table and pointed it at the pair. "Say she's psycho one more time, and she won't be the only person to have sent the Killing Curse at a filthy Weasley in this very room."

With that, Delphini, soup still dripping from her hair, stood, shoved past the girls, and hurried off toward her dormitory to spend another night reading in her four-poster bed.

Reading... and crying.

-0-0-0-

After the children awoke from their nap, Hermione said it was time to depart, much to their protests (especially Henry's). She assured them they would see the professor again for dinner that very night, which seemed to placate them, and also pleased him.

Back at her flat, she tidied up, then started rummaging around for something to cook while the kids played in the sitting room. She ended up deciding to order take-away from the pub nearby, since her fridge boasted little beyond condiments and rapidly rotting fruit. She took the children with her to pick up the fish and chips and arrived home only moments before Severus Flooed in.

Dinner was pleasant. Henry was talking more than he had when she first started working for the former potions master, and both she and Severus were amused by his attempts to carry on a decent conversation. Helena, for a change, was the one struggling to get a word in edge-wise, which she didn't seem too keen about, but true to her nature she did not complain.

After dinner, since the sun was still shining, they took the children to the same local playground where she'd recently been approached by Lucius. While Helena and Henry spun around on the swings, Hermione pushed Hero in a baby swing, and told Severus all about what had transpired.

Not unexpectedly, he was upset by the news.

"Why didn't you tell me before? We've been together for days!"

"I... I honestly don't know exactly. We were... we were just getting on so well, and you had enough stress with having met Delphini, and... I don't know."

"Have you any interest in such a deal?" asked Severus, staring straight ahead. "I ask because I highly doubt his primary intention is to be a decent father to this little one. He wants what he's long wanted... you. He wanted you when you were a teenager and he wants you now, and just as Reginald trapped you with Helena, he likely wishes to do the same using Hero."

"I reckoned he wasn't acting for altruistic reasons, though I can't pretend the idea of the money didn't tempt me for a moment." Her tan cheeks went crimson at this admission. "I haven't exactly got a lot of long-term career prospects on the horizon, and I don't think you should keep paying me, not if we're going to be doing... not if we're... not if I'm your girlfriend rather than your personal assistant."

"Are you interested in... in him?" asked Severus, still staring stone-faced at a tree across the playground, unable to look at her afraid to accidentally read her via Legilimency... afraid to find something he hoped wouldn't be there.

"You can't be serious. Severus!" She placed two fingers under his chin, turning him toward her. "I know I said I didn't want to move in with you... yet... but you can't possible think I could ever be interested in that despicable, deplorable, disgusting bigot."

"He has more money than I do," said Severus. He gently pushed Hero's swing, which had slowed to a stop. Her tiny blonde head leaned against the chain. She was falling asleep. "A better home in which to raise a child. A better reputation, despite the war, with better connections for you should you wish to return to a Ministry career, and he's better looking, and..."

"And he's one of the worst people I've ever met in my entire life. Not only that, but I fancy _you_. It isn't as if my only choices for a lover in this whole world are you and Lucius Malfoy thus I'm with you because you're less vile. I... I really _like_ you. I don't care about money, though if I did, you've certainly been paying me enough of it to live quite well these past few months, and I don't care about Ministry connections – I left to be rid of him, remember? – and as for the house, nothing about Malfoy Manor could ever make me think of home, or make me think it would be a good home for a child. Home isn't the place with rarest artifacts on display or the most spacious grounds. Home is where you find the people you love. I feel at home when I'm with my children, even when we're not at our flat, and I feel at home..." Her eyes met his. She'd been about to say, "With you," and thanks to Legilimency and her open mind, he knew it. She switched gears. "No amount of charm he could attempt to lay on now would make me forget what he did to me, or make me forget what he's done to his wife. I don't want him anywhere near Hero. I don't want her growing up anywhere near Malfoy Manor. I don't want his money, not even if it could mean sending her to the best schools or feeding her nothing but the best food or buying her nothing but the best clothes and toys and books. I'm not ready to move in with you, Severus, but... but there's... there's only one man I want around my children, only one man _I_ want to be around, and it's certain as Merlin _not_ Lucius-bloody-Malfoy."

"I don't deserve you," he said quietly, emotionlessly. "I'm too old, too weak, too embittered, too–"

"Stop. I don't care. I don't care how old you are, how bitter you've been, how weak you feel. I care about how considerate you are, how funny, how intelligent, how kind to my children, how concerned about your own child. I care about all you did to rid our world of evil, how much you risked, and for how long. I care how about genuinely remorseful you are for the sins of your past. I care about your future. I care about the way you look at me and the way you make me feel."

"I don't deserve..." he began again, but again, she interrupted.

"Shut it. You deserve the best, and though I can't pretend to be the best there is, I _can_ try to be the best there is for _you,_ just as you're the best there is for _me."_

He stared at her for several seconds, his expression completely unreadable, then, unable to stop himself, and despite being in public in broad daylight, he kissed her.

-0-0-0-

"Perhaps you should slow down, Mother," said Draco, reaching across the dining room table to remove Narcissa's goblet from her hand. She was on her third glass of wine and they'd only just tucked into the main course.

"Oh, let the poor woman drink," said Lucius dismissively. "She has so little to live for; we may as well allow her this one vice."

"Fuck yourself, Lucius," muttered Narcissa under her breath, reaching to take back her drink, but much to her dismay, her son Vanished it.

"Can't we be civil in front of Scorpius?" Draco tousled the boy's hair. "He's picking up new words every day. I'd rather phrases like 'fuck yourself' not be among them."

"He's officially a toddler today," said Astoria softly. "Eighteen months old. He can identify so many of his body parts. I say, 'touch your knee' or 'where's your nose?' and he shows me."

Even though they'd been living in Malfoy Manor since returning from their honeymoon, it had yet to feel like home to Astoria, especially when she was in the presence of her in-laws. Neither liked her, though they didn't say it outright. Lucius was unhappy with her illness, caused by an old curse placed on her family, and Narcissa, plainly put, didn't think the girl was good enough. They were both less than supportive of her parents' rejection of blood purity importance and the way they'd both spoken out against Death Eaters, the Dark Lord, and Bellatrix Lestrange personally upon the end of the war. Astoria's father served on the Wizengamot and had argued for the harshest possible sentences, even for those who defected and offered to testify against others. Which, though he didn't say it specifically, would include the Malfoys. Needless to say, tensions were eternally high.

"Show us your tummy," said Draco. Scorpius lifted his shirt and giggled. Draco tickled him. "Well done! He's a bright boy."

"Yes," said Lucius. "Bright and handsome. He looks like a Malfoy."

"So long as he doesn't act like one," said Narcissa under her breath. Lucius slammed his palm down on the table, making Scorpius and Astoria flinch.

"You have something to say to me, witch?"

"I have nothing to say to anyone," answered Narcissa. "As no one has ever cared about what I had to say, it seems silly to say anything at all. Excuse me. I'm not hungry."

"I've ordered the house-elves to remove all liquor and potions from your bedroom, Mother," called Draco when she was nearly to the hall door. "If you're not hungry, that's fine, but I hope you don't expect to be drinking your dinner tonight."

"I'm a prisoner in my own home," Narcissa replied. "I might as well be confined to the dungeons."

-0-0-0-

"Is this your girl?" asked the high, shrill, furious voice of a slightly plump, maroon-faced woman. Hermione and Severus parted, both glancing toward her. The woman was carrying a toddler in a carrier across her chest and hurrying in their direction, holding Helena by her upper arm. Helena was crying, the knee of her jeans was torn, and she was missing one shoe. Two other children, a boy of about eight and a girl of maybe ten, trailed behind them. The boy looked confused, the girl embarrassed.

"Helena!" cried Hermione. She pulled her away from the woman's tight grasp. "Love, what happened?"

"While you were over here having a snog, your daughter was nearly kidnapped! A man beckoned her over from behind that tree. I've seen him here several times lately, never with a child, so of course I kept an eye on him. I'm always paying attention, you see. Because I'm both a grown woman and a decent mother, not a _little girl_ who just happens to have children. What are you, twenty, twenty-one? Children having children."

Hermione felt humiliated tears springing up in her eyes. She willed them not to fall as she wrapped her arms around Helena, lifting her, and kissed her tiny tear-stained cheeks. Severus, meanwhile, regarded the woman with what could only be described as mild curiosity.

"Who is this man?" he asked. "Did he have long blonde hair?"

"Short and light brown," said the woman. "He grabbed the child and she screamed. She tried to run, but fell on those rocks. He grabbed her again and tried to pull her away but I caught her wrist and asked if she knew him. She said no. I asked where her mother was and she pointed over here – where the two of you were so caught up in heavy petting you didn't even hear her crying out for help!" She switched her glare from Hermione to Severus. "Let me guess. You aren't her father?"

"No," he said dryly. "I'm afraid not. He's dead."

"Oh." For half a second she looked sympathetic, but then anger overtook her again. She sneered at Hermione. "Sorry for your loss – and you may thank me for preventing a second loss."

"Henry," said Hermione, realizing he wasn't on the swings anymore either. Her eyes darted around the playground, terror rising within her. She handed Helena to Severus. "Where is Henry? Henry! Henry!"

"Hi Mummy!" Henry's head poked out from behind a different tree. He'd been kneeling at the base, digging in the dirt with a sharp stone. He was dirty, but unscathed.

"Henry!" Hermione rushed to retrieve him.

"She has another?" The woman glanced down at baby Hero, asleep in the swing. "Three children she doesn't have time for because she's too busy publicly entertaining a man? Someone ought to call the City of London and get Child Services down here!"

"Thank you for your watchful eye, madam," said Severus in a clipped tone, torn between wanting to rip to shreds this woman for judging Hermione so harshly and wanting to kiss her for having saved Helena from an unknown would-be kidnapper. "And I apologize for having distracted my..." This would be his first opportunity to use the title 'girlfriend,' and yet it felt like it wouldn't fit here. "I assure you, she is a fine mother, who has made but one mistake, entirely my fault. Surely you've taken your eyes off your young ones a time or two? I assure you, we appreciate that you were here to avert disaster, and it will not happen again."

"She looks young enough to be your daughter," the woman snapped as Hermione, with Henry, rejoined them. "And too pretty. I can't imagine her being interested in you unless you're _paying_ her for it."

Though the reality of this stung, Severus ignored the comment. He set Helena down and lifted Hero from the swing, then bent and picked Helena up again, balancing her on his hip with the baby against his chest.

"Thank you," said Hermione tearfully to the woman. "Thank you, I can never thank you enough. I... I'm sorry. I... I'm not a good mother."

"You are a fine mother," said Severus. "Let's go."

Once they were beyond the bushes, hidden from view, Severus handed Hero to her mother, wrapped his arms around all of them, and apparated them home.

-0-0-0-

Another broken bit of wand arrived by owl, but this time, it came wrapped in a message.

 _"_ _A plague on both your houses."_

She tucked it away in a pouch with the others. What in the name of all thing magic could that mean? A plague was a sickness, she knew, but both her houses? She had no houses. There was only her husband's home... and no other property. And what were the red drips along the bottom, the ones that looked like... blood? And why were the bits of wand the mysterious figure kept sending all addressed to her?

Fuck. She needed a drink.

-0-0-0-

Severus stayed to help bathe the children and put them to bed. Once all three wee ones were sleeping, he and Hermione talked for about a half hour about the mysterious man, who he might have been, whether he was targeting them, or randomly targeting children. Much to Severus' disappointment, a short time after nine Hermione told him she wanted to sleep with the children, and would see him the following afternoon during her usual shift.

"I could stay the night," he said. "Keep watch. Just in case."

"I don't believe that will be necessary," she insisted. "I'm going to have the children in bed with me and my wand on the shelf built into the headboard. My wards are strong. We'll be alright."

"Even so," said Severus. "I'll wait until you've fallen asleep, until midnight perhaps, to be... safe. And then I'll Floo home. Please, indulge me this. If not for your peace of mind than for mine."

"Very well," she sighed, too emotionally exhausted to argue. She kissed him lightly on the lips and bade him goodnight. Soon enough, she was asleep.

The flat was silent. Only Severus remained awake. Even the moon had gone to bed, hidden behind a cloud.

He settled himself on the couch, wand in hand, to listen... and wait.

* * *

 **A/N –**

I hope no one feels cheated because they haven't had sex yet... so here's a sort of spoiler in case you're looking forward to it: when I first made my outline for this fic, instead of the detailed plans I usually write, for chapter 34 I simply put, "Shameless smut, lots of cuteness, full of citrus fruit." In other words... don't worry, a coupling is coming. No pun intended. (Ha.) Though I later added plot, too. Also, I've extended from 50 chapters to 52 because some later chapters were too long. Thanks for reading!

 **–** **AL**


	34. The Very Ecstasy

**CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR**

 **This is the very ecstasy of love.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Hermione awoke around four-thirty in the morning after a restless, nightmare-riddled sleep. When she couldn't manage to doze off again, she rose, stretched, grabbed her wand and headed toward the kitchen, figuring some tea and quiet reading time might be nice.

She was surprised, and yet not surprised, to find Severus asleep on the couch, still sitting up, wand in his hand, facing the fireplace. She did not wish to wake him but was afraid she would startle him by moving around the kitchen (and therefore find herself on the receiving end of some horrible hex). Softly, she called his name.

"Severus? Severus... are you asleep?"

It was a stupid question. Of course he was asleep. His breathing was deep and even, his eyes were closed, his chest was rising and falling in rhythm...

"Severus?" She approached him from behind the couch, placed her hands on his shoulders, and gently shook. "It's me, Severus. Hermione."

He flinched at her touch, tightening his grip on his wand, and whirled around, half-seated, to face her. "Oh. It's you." He relaxed, his back against the pillows, his wand hand falling limply to his knee. Damn. His whole body ached. Not the extreme pain he'd been in for years whenever the old potion wore off, and not the tingling the second potion caused, but an ache, a full-body ache, as if he'd been run over by the Knight Bus. "Sorry, I fell asleep."

"Don't be sorry." Still standing behind the couch, she wrapped her arms around his chest and leaned forward to kiss his neck, to kiss the raised pink-brown scar Nagini's fangs had left in his skin. He didn't like for her to look at this scar, or to touch it, but for some reason, tonight, she felt compelled to. Her lips pressed to the marking, and to her surprise, he did not urge her away. Rather, he reached a hand up under her bushy hair to the back of her neck and held her there a moment longer. When he released her, she kissed his neck again, this time parting her lips, letting her tongue ever-so-slightly graze the forever-tender skin.

"It's ugly," he said. "My scar. All of my scars are ugly. But you never mention them."

"I have my own," she reminded him, turning up her arm so he could see the slur etched into it. "The one on my inner thigh – you've never mentioned that. It was a gift from Bellatrix too."

Severus nodded. He'd known about that scar before they'd been intimate because Lucius had mentioned it when goading him about having fucked her months ago. It wasn't all that unsightly, just a two-inch slash in otherwise perfect skin, but he could sense how much she loathed it, thus he pretended it wasn't there.

She kissed the top of his shoulder and ran her fingertips down his arm, where she knew, hidden by his shirt, was another scar. This one had been the result of his own spell, Sectumsempra, used against him by the Dark Lord as punishment for something he'd done in 1979. He couldn't recall what. What he vividly remembered about the incident was closing his eyes and cursing himself for ever having invented the damn spell. He also had a scar from a wicked Stunner across his chest, just one, that stretched diagonally from the center over his heart across his left pec to his side, over his ribs. This didn't bother him much as he'd earned it in a duel that he'd won against a member of the Order of the Phoenix shortly before his defection. He hadn't killed his opponent, but he _had_ bested him, despite being a nineteen-year-old up against an accomplished Auror. There were a few others here and there, most notably a long scratch on his knee from an angry cat he'd encountered at age four – the faint line had never completely gone away (nor had his dislike of cats) and a slightly raised reddish scar on the top his foot from a potion gone wrong back when he was teaching at Hogwarts (it had bubbled over and burned a hole right through his shoe).

And, of course, he still bore the faint remains of the Dark Mark.

"They're part of who we are now, aren't they?" whispered Hermione. She ran her thumb gently over the fangs' marks on his neck. "Even the Mudblood on my arm. I hate it, but I can't imagine not having it. It's evidence of my past, which has shaped my present and future. It's part of me."

"The mother of my daughter branded you with that," he mused, wondering if any sort of irony could be found in that situation. Her hair ticked him as she pressed her lips to the scar on his neck again. He went on, "You've never told me about it. What happened? I know, of course, that it occurred when you were captured by Snatchers, and that you escaped..."

She crawled over the back of the couch and curled up beside him, pulling the afghan over them. Though his body continued to ache all over, he relished having her close, and wrapped an arm around her.

"Bellatrix had Harry and Ron brought to the Malfoy's cellar, to a dungeon they have down there. She tortured me. The Cruciatus...it was awful. But I wouldn't tell her what she wanted to know – I swore the Sword of Gryffindor that we had was a fake. She held me down on the floor, and took out her knife..."

Severus closed his eyes as she talked, picturing it, and struggling to control his fury. He wanted to badly to be able to punish Bellatrix and the Dark Lord, but they were gone. They were gone, and they hadn't even suffered. Not as Charity suffered. Not as so many other murdered innocents had suffered. Not as so many survivors had suffered.

"She ran the knife over me lightly at first. Barely pressing into my neck, my arms. She forced up my shirt and drew the point down from my chest down to my waist and asked me where I thought she should start dissecting. Malfoy – Lucius Malfoy, not Draco – he was watching, and Narcissa was watching, and at in one moment I looked to them. I was so terrified and in so much pain from the Cruciatus, I looked to them, as if they might help, even though I knew they wouldn't. Narcissa, for what it's worth, looked uncomfortable with the whole thing, though I got the distinct impression she was more concerned with getting blood on her drawing room floor than with my safety. But Lucius, he was smirking down at me, like he thought I was getting what I deserved... like he wanted to see what else she would do to me. Like he was hoping it would be... something dirty."

He wanted, for so many reasons, to make Lucius pay for his part in all of it, for his complacency, for his desire to please the Dark Lord, for his unwavering loyalty that did not dissipate until the war was nearly over, until it was safe, the coward, and for everything he'd done since.

"She pressed the tip of the knife against my thigh and whispered 'Crucio.' I couldn't help writhing about because of the pain, and the knife dug into my skin. Then she pulled it out, pinned my arm out to the side, and began carving. She said something... something about... I don't know, it's... I was in excruciating pain; it's hard to remember. She might've called me a liar again. I did a lot of screaming. When she was through she... she..."

"You can tell me."

"She traced her tongue over the M, which was bleeding, and laughed. At some point I passed out, but Ron and Harry say she dragged me across the room, to under the chandelier, and held the knife to my throat. When we escaped, she threw it, and it killed the Malfoy's former house-elf, Dobby."

Severus tightened his grip protectively around her. "My hatred for her was second only to that of my hatred for the Dark Lord."

"Was? Not is?"

"Thanks to a combination of her past and his present, Lucius has surpassed her for the number two spot on my list."

"I don't understand why Narcissa won't leave him."

"My mother wouldn't leave my father. After he passed, I thought she would be happier, that she would feel free. On the contrary, she couldn't live without him lording over her. Even though I grew up around domestic violence, I cannot pretend to understand it."

She snuggled closer to him, bringing her hand up his chest, but stopped when she felt a lump. "What's this?"

He reached into the inside pocket of his frock coat and pulled out a vial. Without explanation, he handed it to her.

"This is the contraceptive potion."

"You don't have to take it," he said. "You can store it someplace safe. It's one dosage. I thought you should have it on hand... just in case."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to... you know... tonight, but then that incident at the playground had me so..."

"Do not apologize. When you're... ready, it's there. One batch is good for six months. After that, it goes into the rubbish bin and one has to brew or procure more."

"I can't imagine I won't use it within the next six months." She leaned up to kiss the strong line of his jaw, trying to suppress the apprehension churning in her stomach for reasons unknown. Hesitantly, she added, "I wouldn't be averse to needing it now."

"Alas," he said, sounding more like Albus than he liked, "I am afraid my new and improved pain potion wore off hours ago, thus unless you'd like to get me pissed first, I'm afraid it is not happening tonight."

"Mummy?" a small voice called from the hall. "Mummy, where'd you go?"

"In here, Helena," called Hermione. The little girl shuffled in, clutching her doll to her chest. "What's wrong, love?"

Helena did not seem surprised to find Severus still on the couch. She crawled up between them, comforted by their presence, and took a deep breath, inhaling the smells of her mother's coconut shampoo and the peppermint candies Severus usually had in his pocket.

"I had a bad dream. I had a bad dream about the man. In my dream, he looked like... he looked like my dad. He looked like my dad and he came back from the dead and tried to take me away. Can that happen for real?"

"Oh, my sweet girl!" Hermione kissed the top of Helena's head. "That's your mind playing tricks on you. We've talked about what death means. Death means a person can't come back, unless they chose to remain on earth as a ghost. But your father didn't do that. He's not a ghost. He's... gone."

"Did the man in the playground look like your father?" asked Severus.

"Yes... no... I don't know," said Helena. "He had the same color hair, but his face was... he had a mark on his face, red, like the letters on Mummy's arm. And it covered from here to here." Helena traced her fingertip from the center of her forehead down across her eye and cheek. "Like Scar from Lion King. Plus he had a scraggly beard and he was skinny-skinny. My dad was normal-size. Right, Mummy?"

"Right, Love."

"He called me Little Girl, not my name. Daddy would know my name."

"In your dream or at the playground?" asked Severus.

"At the playground he called me Little Girl. Daddy never called me Little Girl. In my dream he called me Helly Bean. Remember how he called me Helly Bean, Mummy? Like jelly bean? Then he gave me jelly beans. My dad loved jelly beans. But not Every Flavor Beans because he got a Toe Jam one once, remember Mummy?"

"I remember," said Hermione.

"The man at the playground said he had candy but he didn't say it was jelly beans."

"Tell us again what happened," said Severus. Suddenly, he was struck by an idea. "Actually... don't. I... I want you to think about it, Helena. Think very hard about that memory. I'm going to try to see for myself."

"Okay," she said, sounding confused.

Severus reached for his wand, pointed it at the girl, and said softly, "Legilimens." Suddenly he was in her mind. But it was not a pleasant experience. There was a reason the Wizengamot did not allow memories viewed via Legilimency to be used in the court. Not only could they be easily manipulated, but depending on the subject, they could be a mess. This was never truer than in the complicated, disorganized, highly-suggestible minds of children. Severus sifted through memory after memory, each as distorted as the last, full of unrealistic colors and overlapping sounds. Finally he came upon the playground, but in her mind it appeared she'd already managed to cross reality with her nightmare. The sky was blue, as it had been, but the clouds were dark and ominous, which hadn't been the case. Helena saw the man behind the tree. She glanced toward Henry, who was wandering toward another tree. The man beckoned to her. She moved forward. Severus could sense her mix of curiosity and foreboding.

The man did indeed have a scraggly beard and a long scar. Helena glanced back at Henry, then to the man again. His appearance had now changed. The beard and scar were gone. He was handsome, with hair a shade darker than Henry's and kind brown eyes. He held out his hand, which was fully of jelly beans. Helena moved closer, more determinedly. She looked to the swings, where Severus was gently pushing Hero. He was surprised to see how much taller he appeared in her mind. Though a tall man, she envisioned him nearly as tall as the top of the swing-set, with a warmth emanating from him that he'd never imagine anyone would feel when in his presence. He could tell that, to her, Hermione and Severus represented safety, and home. But this man behind the tree had peaked her curiosity and though she knew she shouldn't go, she was inexplicably drawn to him.

"Long time, no see, little girl," said the man when Helena was within earshot. He had neat, short hair and no beard. "Wherefore art thou, Helly Bean?"

"That's Shakespeare," she whispered. "'Wherefore art thou, Romeo?' I saw that play in the park once." She glanced back where her mother and Severus should be and now there was a stage there, with actors in Elizabethan period clothes, dueling with swords. When she looked back at the man, the beard and scar had returned.

"Your mother doesn't love you anymore," said the man, but his voice had changed, and Severus fought a shudder when he realized it sounded like him. "Your mother wants to start a new family. Your mother didn't love your father and she doesn't love you. She loves someone new now, and they're going to get married and have new children, and they don't need you."

"That's not true!" shouted Helena. The dark clouds above them grew and grew to hide the sun. Now the park was darker than dusk.

"Come with me," said the scarred man. "I'll be your family. I have candy. I'll pay attention to you. You'll be happier with me. I've missed you."

She had gotten close enough to reach. He grabbed her upper arm and she stumbled, losing her shoe. "No!" she shouted. "I want my mummy!" She tried to wrench her arm away but he was too strong. He began to drag her back toward the tree. Then, suddenly, that obnoxious woman was there, with a grip on Helena's other arm.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"She's my daughter," he said. "It's time for us to go."

"Your daughter? I don't believe it. Little girl, where is your mother?"

"Over there," said Helena, nodding toward the stage. Hermione was wearing a long pink dress, standing on a balcony, holding out Hero like baby Simba in The Lion King. On the stage floor below, Severus was knelt, staring up at her.

"Let her go or I'll call the authorities," snapped the woman. "Get out of our park, you pervert!"

The man released struggling Helena and backed toward the tree. His face changed again – the beard disappeared, the scar disappeared – and he smiled with kind eyes. "My apologies," he said. And then, with a pop, he disapparated.

Severus pulled out of Helena's mind.

"Did you see anything helpful?" asked Hermione. Severus shrugged. It had been so difficult to discern which bits were steeped in reality, he couldn't even be sure any of the dialogue was accurate. But he did know one thing.

"Helena, are you afraid your mother is going to have more children and stop loving you?"

Her eyes widened. How could he know that? She hadn't told anybody! Slowly, she nodded.

"My Helena!" Hermione wrapped her arms more tightly around the girl. "I'm not planning to have any more children, but even if I did, my lovely girl, I would never, ever stop loving you. I love you and Henry and Hero and I always will. Always. I promise. Do not worry."

"Okay, Mummy," said Helena.

But Severus could sense she was still worried.

-0-0-0-

On Wednesday, Hermione again took the children with her when she went to Severus' home to work. This time, they tackled the smallest bedroom together. Hero sat in the crib with a number of toys and a couple of books, playing happily, while Helena and Henry helped sort through the old toys and school supplies locked away in Severus' childhood closet.

"Odd note about this house," he said as they removed stacked boxes and set them on the bed to be gone through. "This is the only room with a built-in closet. Both the Master bedroom and mine have freestanding wardrobes, and though there is a pantry of sorts in the cellar, it's not quite a closet – plus I built it myself.

"Really? I'd assumed it was once a root cellar," said Hermione.

"No. I put it in myself when I was fourteen. I wanted to brew from home during the summers and felt I needed my own storeroom, like Slughorn had at Hogwarts."

"Mummy!" shouted Henry. He'd just opened a box full of trucks like the ones Severus had let him play with before, except these were not rusty. On the contrary, they looked like they'd never been used. Under them were train tracks and a toy train, which, despite a light coating of dust, looked to be brand new.

"When I was small, before my father... before he knew I'd be like my mother, he bought me a number of Muggle toys he thought I'd like. I didn't."

"A twain!" exclaimed Henry, pulling it out. "I can pway?"

"Yes," said Severus. "We'll clean it first, then it's yours."

When they were finished, it was past dinner time, but the room looked considerably better. There were Muggle light fixtures in this room, unlike in the sitting room or Severus' bedroom (from which he'd removed them after his mother's death to escape reminders that this had been a Muggle house) so with Henry's 'help' Severus put new bulbs in the lamps and ceiling light, which brightened the room. Hermione had purchased new bedding when she'd bought the pink and yellow decorative towels, so Helena helped her make the bed. She had gone not with Gryffindor red or Slytherin green, but with egg-yolk yellow sheets with matching pillowcases under a dandelion yellow blanket which further lessened the darkness of the room. She'd even bought new (matching) bedding for the crib, as they'd been using an adult-sized sheet tucked in around the edges.

"I like this," murmured Severus, wrapping his arms around Hermione from behind.

"Henwy's woom?" asked the boy, smiling up at them from the center of the floor, surrounded by trucks and the train.

"It can be your room when you visit me," answered Severus without missing a beat, sparing Hermione from having to think of something to say. "How does that sound?"

"I visit evweday!" replied Henry.

Helena giggled. "I reckon that means he likes it!"

-0-0-0-

By unspoken agreement, it was a given that Hermione and the children would be spending the night with Severus at Spinner's End again. After putting them to sleep, she took a shower. While the hot water ran down her back, she wondered if that woman in the playground had been right, if she was rubbish as a mother. After all, here she was, having another 'sleepover' with her children at the home of her... boyfriend... simply so they could spend the night being together physically. What example did that send for the little ones?

Of course, at their ages, it didn't mean anything. They were used to sleeping together in one bed, all perfectly innocent, and would have no reason to suspect Hermione and Severus weren't simply doing the same.

-0-0-0-

In the bedroom, straightening the contents of his wardrobe unnecessarily, Severus worried over the woman's words too. She'd said Hermione wouldn't be with him unless he paid her. And he was paying her. He was continuing to pay her for those hours she worked, though he didn't pay her for any hours outside it. He had to keep paying her. She had to be able to pay her rent and feed her children. But how long before she'd start to feel like a 'kept woman'... and what if her affection for him was misplaced, in part because he'd been paying her so generously at a time in which she'd really needed the money? What if, in her mind, she confused true attraction with appreciation for her savior?

-0-0-0-

She was afraid he didn't really want her. He might simply be desperate and not even realize it. He'd been alone for a decade before she came along to keep him company... for money... which he'd described as saving him for a second time. What if he had simply transferred over his feelings for Lily to her, or, worse, what if he didn't truly have any feelings for her at all? What if, in his mind, he'd confused true attraction with appreciation for his savior?

-0-0-0-

He sat on the edge of the bed and wiped his sweaty palms on his knees. He hadn't had sex in... fuck... over ten years. What if he couldn't remember how? What if he couldn't please her? What if he couldn't last? What if he couldn't get it up in the first place?

-0-0-0-

She rinsed the shampoo from her hair and sighed. She hadn't had sex in... fuck... over two years. What if she couldn't remember how? What if she wasn't any good? What if she couldn't get him off? What if memories of that last time, with Malfoy, assaulted her mid-coitus and she started to cry?

-0-0-0-

He turned the vial of contraceptive potion over in his hand. At least this time, there wouldn't be a danger of getting his partner pregnant, as he'd been required to try to do with Bellatrix... and as he'd accidentally done with Narcissa.

-0-0-0-

She emerged from the shower, dried her hair first with a towel then with a drying charm, and dressed in a little number she'd picked up over the weekend. It was a negligee, black with dark purple accents, seductive, with a tight bodice, a bit of lift for her breasts, thin straps, and a short hem. She messed with her hair, going for tumbling waves rather than humidity-induced puffs and snarls, then she applied eye makeup and deep burgundy lipstick. She wore the nightie with thigh-high black nylons and a pair of strappy high heels. She took a deep breath to steady herself, and headed into his bedroom.

His breath caught in his throat when he saw her.

"You look as though you've just stepped out of one of the dirty magazines my father used to keep hidden," said Severus, his dark eyes wide.

"Is that... good?" she asked, taking an awkward step toward him.

"It's... you're beautiful," he said, figuring that was a safe answer. She was beautiful, she would be beautiful to him in anything, but this... was a bit much.

She approached the bed and straddled him, her inner thighs against his outer thighs. She took the contraceptive potion from his hand, uncorked it, and downed it in two quick sips. She couldn't help making a face.

"It's as bitter as I remember."

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's unfortunate, but even trace amount of sugar render it completely useless."

"Oh." She dropped the vial to the floor. They stared at each other. Tentatively, she pressed her lips to his. He pressed back. But there was no spark, no magic, like they usually felt when they came together. Almost mechanically he ran his hands up and down her back and over her arse as she kissed him. She removed her shoes and stockings. He flipped her onto her back and began to touch her, to grope her breast, to rub between her legs, as she removed his shirt and traced her fingertips over his upper body... but still, no magic, no spark.

After about five minutes of this, Severus rolled off of her. They lay side by side, staring at the ceiling.

"This feels like the dinner portion of our first date," said Hermione.

"Uncomfortable and forced," agreed Severus. "May I be honest?"

"Yes, please."

"I don't like you in this," he tugged the hem of the lingerie, "Or in all that makeup. You don't look like... you. In fact, you remind me a bit of... a bit of _her._ She... she wore heavier makeup, and once, when we were together, she wore a similar... ensemble. But in pink."

"I can't picture Bellatrix in pink," said Hermione, using her wand to summon over a handkerchief, which she used to remove the lipstick.

"It was unnerving," said Severus. "And this is unnerving."

"I'm afraid I... I might cry," confessed Hermione. "Last night, when I woke, it was after having a terrible dream about... about _him._ In my dream, he stole Helena but would only return her in exchange for Hero. I refused, so he said he would take me again instead, and as I'd do anything to save my children, I had no choice... Even though you're nothing like him, I'm afraid being... being with you... being that it's the first time since... I'm afraid..."

"I'm having similar difficulty," he said. "I can't have you remind me of Bellatrix. I'd rather you wear... anything. Your sundress. My shirt. One of those jumpers with a stupid H on it. Anyway else, really. "

"Mrs. Weasley made me that jumper." She turned on her side to face him. "I believe I still have my Hogwarts uniform. Would you like me to wear that? I can call you Professor, you can punish me for misbehaving in class... we'll do it in the cellar, over a cauldron..."

"That's sick," he said, but he was smiling finally. "Why don't we go to sleep? It's been a long day. And there's plenty of potion. No need to rush. When it feels... right... that's when we can..."

"I like that idea," she interjected. "Could you lend me a shirt? I didn't bring pajamas."

So he put on a pair of Muggle pajama bottoms and she put on an oversized shirt of his, and they crawled into bed together, and talked for over an hour, until both were ready for sleep.

-0-0-0-

Shortly before three in the morning, it was Henry who had a bad dream. Hermione heard him calling out in his sleep so she went to him, rocked him, and sang him back to sleep.

When she returned to the bedroom, Severus was sitting up, stretching.

"I'd worried you'd decided to up and leave me in the middle of the night," he said.

"I would never." She crawled back onto the bed, over the covers, and kissed him. "Henry had a nightmare. He's alright now."

"I'm sorry about earlier," said Severus, resting his hands on her hips. "Trust me when I say I have been looking forward to being with you."

"Me too." She kissed him again. "But I think, once the pressure was on, I got... nervous. I'm afraid to get hurt. In more ways than one."

"I won't hurt you." He brought his hand up under her sleep-tangled hair, scratching lightly at the back of her neck. He leaned forward, bringing his lips to hers. "If you want me to stop..."

"I don't want you to stop," she murmured just before their mouths met. When they parted, she added, "So many times lately, I've not wanted you to stop. I like the way... the way it feels with you."

"I like that you're brilliant. I like that you stand up to me when I pick ridiculous fights. I like that you're a fierce protector of your children and that you've encouraged me to connect with my own, even though her mother was..."

"I like that you've connected with my children, especially Henry, because he needs a..." She couldn't say 'father,' so she went on. "And how you helped with Helena after her bad dream and that you learned to change a nappy today to help with Hero when I had Henry in the tub."

"To give credit where it's due, Helena talked me through that," he admitted. Their mouths met again. Her lips parted and he took it as an invitation to slip his tongue in to caress hers. "I like that you smell like coconut. I like that you pushed me to try the Dragon's Nightshade. I like that you dressed up tonight to seduce me, even though you needn't have."

"I like that you love to read and love to learn. I like that you don't expect me to do all of the cooking just because I'm the woman. I like the way I catch you looking at me when you think I'm not paying attention."

She shifted her weight on his lap, and upon doing so, felt the evidence of his building arousal through his pajama bottoms and the blanket. She moved aside just long enough to toss the blanket to the floor then climbed back into his lap.

"I'm too old for you," he said, groaning as she gyrated against his erection.

"Nonsense. You lost ten years of your life in recovery, which, when deducted, puts you at only thirty-eight. And though I'll technically be twenty-nine in a few days, the war aged me at least a decade putting me at thirty-eight as of today, which makes us the same age."

"See? Brilliant." He grabbed her arse and thrust her toward him, their lips connecting. He brought one hand up under the tee-shirt she was wearing, palming over her bare breast, feeling her nipple harden under his touch. He hurriedly removed the shirt, urged her to sit up higher, and took her areola into his mouth. She placed one hand on the back of his head and used the other to steady herself, gripping the headboard, as a familiar tugging began in her lower belly, spreading to her sex, which contracted involuntarily out of need for him. With one hand on her opposite breast and the other firmly on her arse, he licked and sucked her nipple, delighting in the way it made her whimper and moan. She reached down between his legs to massage him through the material of his pajama pants, enjoying the sensation of their bare chests pressed together when he pulled her close. She grinded on top of him, a simulation of what was to come, as he groaned.

With a wave of his hand, her knickers Vanished, as did his pajama pants, leaving them both completely naked. Unconfined from his clothing, his cock sprung to life, poking against her lower belly. He slid his hand between her legs, touching her, rubbing her, relishing in how wet she was for him.

She sat up on her knees, which were to either side of his hips, and took him in her hand. She ran her hand up and down his shaft, twisting when she reached the head, faster and faster... He moved his hand to slide his fingers inside her, but she pushed him away, choosing instead of use his erect penis as a pseudo sex toy, the head of which she worked against her clit, which made him twitch and writhe with anticipation. When he grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her into a searing kiss, she momentarily released his member, slipping her hand even further down to graze her fingertips against his balls.

"Fuck," he growled. "That potion lasts twelve hours."

"Good," she breathed, again taking him in her hand, running her thumb along the pre-cum building at the tip. He seemed too overwhelmed to focus on only one part of her anatomy, moving his hands from her breasts to her arse to between her legs and up again.

"You'll tell me if this hurt you?" she asked, hoping the pain potion would last. He nodded.

"And you will tell me if it hurts you," he said.

In response, she lowered herself onto him, slowly... slowly... allowing just the head first, then pulling out to work him between her slick folds again, before mustering up the nerve to try a second go, this time clenching her teeth and hissing as she lowered herself all the way until the bottoms of her thighs were level with the tops of his, letting him fill her completely. He was... big. That she knew from having had him in her mouth and hands on numerous occasions. But considering she'd felt the pleasure of only her fingers and his (and his tongue) for the past two years, she felt as though her sex was expanding beyond capacity to fit him.

Once ready, holding again to the headboard with one hand, the other on his shoulder, she began to move.

She only rocked her hips at first, which made him moan and groan and beg for more.

"Fuck me," he begged. "Faster... faster... fuck me..."

She lifted her hips, on which he'd placed his hands, enough for him to be out of her by about halfway, then she slammed back down again. Using his grip on her hips, he urged her to continue this. Up-and-down, up-and-down, his cock slammed into her wet core, their chests brushing together, frantically kissing each other's lips or cheeks or necks. As he felt his balls tighten and worried he'd finish far more quickly than he'd like to, her eyes filled with tears, which he wiped away with his thumbs.

"Women typically cry _after_ sex with me, not _during_ ," he joked. She laughed.

"I can't help it! Being with you is... being with you... I... we..." She kissed him, trying to put everything she was feeling into the action rather than trying to find the words. "I'm not crying," she said finally, riding him harder.

When this rapid up-and-down movement started to exhaust her, she again let him sink completely into her, leaning first forward to kiss him while her pelvis gyrated, causing his cock to hit against her inner walls in a most satisfactory way, then she leaned back so he could better see her, with her hands on his knees, and thrust. He watched her breasts bounce, her eyes half-closed with pleasure, as his hands on her hips spurred her on. He used the thumb of his left hand against her clit, rubbing her as she rode him. Her breath went ragged, she called out his name, cried it out, as the pressure inside her built and built and built, until she suddenly stilled as her climax came, washing over her in waves, making her dizzy.

This very nearly brought on his own finish, but determined to continue, he flipped them into a new position, with her on his back and him risen above her. He held onto the back of her left thigh, his thumb pressing to the back of her knee, and thrust into her over and over and over again. They breathed together, finding their rhythm. Between grunts and groans and whimpers and moans, they exchanged words of affection, purred into each other's ears, or mumbled against shoulders, or interjected between kisses.

"You. Are. Beautiful," he said as he moved slowly into her and out again. She ran over hands over his bare chest, then brought them down to his hips, as this time she was the one encouraging him to keep moving, to pick up the pace. "Beautiful. Brilliant. The only woman... the only woman... I... we..."

"Kiss me," she requested. He leaned down to oblige, flush against her in missionary position, releasing her thigh so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He pressed his mouth to hers, taking his lower lip in between his, biting ever-so-slightly, which made her whimper. Her heart pounded against her chest and she could feel his heart through his chest too, as if the two were connected, as if they were – cliché as it seemed – beating as one.

When they rolled over again, she was back on top, but this time he was lying down rather than seated against the headboard. She kept her upper body close to him as she rocked her hips against his. His hands returned to her arse, grasping her, keeping her moving. She was nearly to a second orgasm when she asked him to be on top of her, wanting to feel him, wanting to feel safe under him. He obliged, and moments later they came together, him breathing into her sweet coconut-scented hair, her calling out his name again.

He remained on top of her, inside her, for as long as possible. She had her arms wrapped around his back, and missed the feeling of his weight on hers when he eventually rolled off.

He pulled her to him, her head and hair on his right shoulder, and rubbed his fingertips up and down her spine. She threw one leg over his, her arm around his waist, with her hand resting on his left hip.

"That was the best sex I've had in ten years," he joked. She slapped his thigh.

"It might be the best I've ever had," she said. She meant it. Though it hadn't lasted the longest or given her the most orgasms (her one-night record with her second husband was four) the connection she'd felt with him, like holding her wand for the first time, had filled her with a sensation sex never had before, a certain lingering, tingling magic, as if to say, 'Yes, this is the right one.'

It almost frightened her, really, but she couldn't deny it had made for an excellent shag session, one she hoped to repeat in the future... perhaps in the long-term future...

"I am inclined to agree," he said, quickly adding, "What I mean is, I believe that is quite likely the best I've had, too."

He'd felt it as well, that spark, that fire, that overwhelming notion that this was right, this was the perfect fit, this was the ideal. It frightened him, too, as that was something he'd only ever even comparably felt for Lily, and it hadn't been there the one time he'd been intimate with her... but he was too content, too satiated, to worry on it now.

They fell asleep naked, intertwined, atop the sheets with no blanket, but thankfully awoke early enough in the morning that neither of the older children wandered in to find them this way. She showered first, figuring the children would need her upon waking, and he followed while she was dressing the little ones for the day with clothing packed the afternoon before.

As neither felt like cooking, they went out to breakfast, apparating to a new place in Hogsmeade, which used to be the Hog's Head.

"It's changed a lot since Aberforth retired to spend more time with his goats," said Hermione, glancing around the cheery, family-friendly pub.

"While we're here, perhaps I should make a run up to the school to check on Delphini," said Severus, once the waitress had taken their order. "What if the other students ostracize her on account of who her mother was?"

"Don't you dare!" exclaimed Hermione. "I'm sure she's doing fine and if you go up to check, you'll only embarrass her. At least wait until she sends you a letter. Then, if she's having difficulties, you can contact Minerva."

"Very well." He sipped his coffee. "I'll wait for word. Do you really think she'll write?"

"She promised, didn't she?"

He nodded.

"Then yes, I really think she will. If she's anything like her father, she knows how to keep promises."

"Who's Delphini?" asked Helena, staring curiously up at the adults. "Is she your daughter?"

There was a moment of silence as Severus and Hermione exchanged a look, both realizing they'd never mentioned the girl to Helena, and wondering how to explain the situation now. Figuring simplest was best, Severus broke the silence.

"Yes, Helena. She is."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for all the reviews! And a special thank you to **HarryPGinnyW4Eva** , because originally I only had Helena saying she'd had a bad dream and leaving it there, but your review put a mini plot bunny in my head thus I had to rewrite part of the chapter to add Severus looking into Helena's memory, which got me thinking about how a kid's mind might differ from an adult's. Of course, that contributed to this chapter being ridiculously longer than usual, but I liked delving into it! Also, note that the quote for this chapter really doesn't fit their situation contextually (as far as the play goes) but I wanted a sexy title for this one and it was hard to find one... Hamlet isn't the sexiest play. lol! Anyway, look for the next update either Wednesday night or Thursday during the day. Thanks! **–AL**


	35. Nothing There

**CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE**

 **Do you see nothing there?**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

When they finished breakfast, they decided to spend a bit of time wandering around Hogsmeade, mostly window-shopping. Helena and Henry dragged them into Honeydukes and though Hermione reminded them several times that sugary sweets would rot their teeth (she had, after all, been raised by dentists) Severus, subconsciously bringing his hand to the scar on his neck, countered that life is too short to worry about a little indulgence once in awhile. How could she argue with that? She let them pick out more than she should have, but made a mental note to pick up new toothbrushes later.

They were on their way out when Luna and Rolf, hand in hand, entered.

"Hermione!" said Luna, pleasantly surprised. "I received your owl last night. I'm sorry, but I won't be able to work for you. I know I'd said I was seeking part-time employment, but Rolf has just been offered the chance to help his grandfather track down and study a three-horned manticore inhabiting an uncharted island off Greece. We'll be leaving next week and won't return until after Christmas at the earliest."

"We would love it if you could join us for dinner one night before we depart, though," said Rolf, who'd just shaken hands with Severus. "Luna tells me your birthday is fast approaching, Hermione. Perhaps we could take you out...?"

"Oh, she doesn't want to spend her birthday with _us_ ," said Luna. "But if you'd like, we can mind the children that night so you two can go out. Poor Yorick's offers a free cocktail and a copy of one of Shakespeare's plays to take home if you're there on your birthday."

"I... we... we hadn't talked about it, yet," said Hermione, glancing at Severus. Hermione bounced Hero on her hip, struggling to hold her up as the toddler was itching to get down and explore. Henry, also growing bored, slipped his hand into one of the Honeydukes bags, seeking a Chocolate Frog.

"When is your birthday?" asked Severus, scolding himself for never having asked before even though she'd just last night mentioned she was nearly twenty-nine.

"The ninth. But I don't need to do anything special. I usually just pick up a small cake and enjoy it with the kids."

"Cake?" asked Henry, dropping the still-wrapped Frog on the store floor. "I want cake."

Severus picked up the Chocolate Frog, opened it, and handed both the card and the candy to Henry, pocketing the wrapper. "Might we send you a Patronus in a day or two? Perhaps we could also have lunch before you leave?" It wasn't easy for him to be social, especially considering these were students he'd taught, but since Hermione was also a former student and since he couldn't deny they'd enjoyed the couple's company during their recent date, it felt like an offer worth making.

"That would be lovely," said Luna, smiling dreamily. Rolf agreed.

They chatted a few more minutes, until Henry was poking around for a second Chocolate Frog, Hero was screeching because she wasn't allowed to get down, and Helena was tugging at her mother's hem. Upon saying goodbye, Rolf and Luna continued further into the store to shop, while Severus, with Henry on his shoulders, and Hermione, with Hero on her hip, and Helena, skipping merrily, continued wandering around Hogsmeade... looking, to the casual observer, very much like the average family.

-0-0-0-

Cho Chang Zabini, professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, did the same double-take Longbottom had done upon laying eyes upon the unruly black hair and heavy-lidded eyes of Delphini Black.

Unlike Professor Longbottom, though, Cho Zabini didn't spend the rest of class pretending the girl did not exist. She herself had married a Slytherin, son of a Death Eater killed during Voldemort's first reign and a woman known as a sympathizer all through the second war. As falling for him taught Cho, kids could not be held accountable for their upbringing. The war had changed Blaise, morphed his entire outlook, and though it left him estranged from his mother, two younger sisters, and most of his former friends (save for Draco, whom he still saw on occasion) he was happy with his new life, and Cho was happy with him.

She was sad to be leaving her post at Hogwarts, but knew she didn't want the pressures and responsibility of teaching seven years worth of impressionable students while trying to handle having a baby at home, so though she'd told McGonagall she would return next fall, she was relatively certain she would be changing her mind once the baby, due in late January, came.

Professor Zabini started the first lesson as she started every first lesson for the first years – with history. She told them a little about herself and the war, about joining Dumbledore's Army, and about returning to defend a school overrun by Death Eaters during the Final Battle. She told them over the next few years they would be learning how to cast a corporeal Patronus, how to face their deepest fears using a Boggart, and how to protect, deflect, and heal themselves from a variety of spells and hexes, among other things.

She looked around at the room of Slytherins and Gryffindors, who were all staring at her with rapt attention and smiled warmly, hoping she hadn't scared any off wanting to learn.

"Any questions?"

Victoire Weasley raised her hand. Once called on, she glanced disdainfully at Delphini across the aisle and asked, "Will you be teaching us how to recognize and repel vile, Dark, psychotic enemies... and their children?"

Before Professor Zabini could answer, Delphini piped up.

"If you need to be _taught_ to recognize your enemies, you're more empty-headed than you look. And that's saying something."

"Five points from Slytherin for speaking without being called on, and five more for insulting your peer," said Professor Zabini. Victoire tossed her hair, smirking, but the gloat only lasted a moment. "And ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Weasley. Don't think I missed the implication in your question. That was unkind, uncalled for, and unwelcome in my classroom. Next time, detention."

It was Delphini's turn to toss her hair. Victoire glared at her. The moment Professor Zabini's back was turned, Delphini made a rude gesture in the direction of the part-Veela. She could tell the Weasley girl wanted to retaliate but wouldn't risk detention, whereas Delphini would defend her mother's honor to the death if she had to. Thus, though they'd lost an equal number of points, Delphini couldn't help feeling like she'd won.

-0-0-0-

"A bwoom! A bwoom, Pofessah!" shouted Henry, one hand on the top of Severus' head, the other pointing toward the window of what used to be Dervish & Banges, which had closed up shop several months earlier upon Dervish's death and Banges' relocation to the south of France. It appeared to now be competition for Diagon Alley's Quality Quidditch Supplies. A board over the door read Bludgers & Brooms. The storefront window was impressively arranged, with everything from Chudley Cannon's pennants to professional Keeper's helmets to soft practice Quaffles for small children.

"Let's go in," said Severus. "I enjoy Quidditch."

"Kiddish!" shouted Henry. Hermione and Helena exchanged a glance.

"I think we'll wait out here. I want to let Hero run around a bit before she wiggles herself into a tantrum."

"Suit yourselves." Severus removed Henry from his shoulders, took the little boy by the hand, and led him into the Quidditch shop. Hermione set Hero down and the toddler proceeded to unsteadily run wobbly circles around her mother and sister, giggling madly. Helena and Hermione laughed, completely oblivious to the approaching man, who walked duck-footed and gathered attention from several women on the street. He was carrying a large briefcase with the Quidditch shop's logo on the front.

"Herm-Own-Ninny!" the man called jovially, approaching Hermione and the girls. "Vhat luck, running into you! You are looking vell!"

Hermione was taken aback, but she recovered quickly enough, and greeted him warmly. "Viktor Krum! It's been... awhile. These are my daughters, Helena and Hero. Girls, this is my friend, Viktor. We met and school and were pen-pals for several years."

"You are haffing daughters now?" he asked awkwardly. "You are married, yes? Or you haff boyfriend?"

"No, our dad died," answered Helena (un)helpfully. "He's been gone a long time. And Mummy doesn't have a boyfriend. She has a professor, but they're just good friends, so it's not terribly romantic, right, Mummy?"

Hermione's jaw dropped open. "Uhhh..."

"Ah, vell, my sympathies regarding your departed husband," said Krum, but he couldn't help looking slightly pleased with the news she was available, even though he wasn't quite keen on dating a woman with small children. "Vhat are you doing in Hogsmeade? Haff you visited my shop?" He tapped the briefcase logo.

"Your shop?" asked Hermione. "Is Bludgers and Brooms yours?"

"Yes!" He grinned. "Vith my partner, Panagiotis Panou, who played for the Chudley Cannons. Ve haff together gone into business. His team has the vindow now, because they von this week, but Bulgaria plays this veekend, so I am hoping to redecorate. I haff retired, did you hear? Effective as of the first of the month."

"I... congratulations," said Hermione. She wondered whether Severus would be as excited about the shop upon learning who was running it. Not that he had anything to worry about. Her teen fling with Krum hadn't gone anywhere, and she'd already made it clear she had no interest in him as an adult.

"Fancy coming upon you here, Miss Granger," said the silky voice of another man, one whose appearance made Helena hide behind her mother's leg, catching Hero's hand as she did so. The toddler stumbled and landed on her bum in the dirt. Hermione picked her up and glanced toward the source of the voice. Lucius and Narcissa were approaching, him looking serpent-like, her apprehensive.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione said, as politely as she could manage. She noticed that Narcissa was looking at her the same way she'd looked the day she'd begged Narcissa to put a stop to her husband's plan to bed her, in a silent plea for absolution. Even though the courtesy had not been extended to her then, she now understood why, and so she nodded nearly imperceptibly, a promise she wouldn't let on to Malfoy any of what Narcissa had told her about the abuse, or about her previous relationship with Severus.

"Glorious afternoon, isn't it?" asked Lucius. "If only this weather would last."

"Ms. Granger," said Narcissa politely. She nodded at the Helena. "Children."

"I have been trying to reach you, Miss Granger," said Lucius, stepping too close for comfort. Viktor must have sensed that she wanted him nowhere near her, because he tried to position himself awkwardly between them.

"Viktor Krum," he said, sticking out his hand. "Friend of Herm-Own-Ninny. You look familiar, sir."

"Lucius Malfoy." Lucius did not shake the younger man's hand. "And my wife, Narcissa."

Viktor Krum's eyes swept over Narcissa, from her white-blonde hair, which was plaited around a bun low on her neck, down her long-sleeved floor-length form-fitting burgundy dress, to her high-heeled boots, barely visible beneath her hem. Across from her, Hermione felt rather plain, in her jeans, t-shirt, and trainers, her frizzy hair barely contained by a ponytail. Hermione dressed for comfort and looked nice, but she felt like a little girl compared to the older woman.

"Hullo," Krum said, clearly impressed by the sight before him. He stuck out his hand and, politely, Narcissa shook it.

Lucius narrowed his eyes. He didn't like seeing the man with Hermione, that was true, but he liked him ogling his wife even less. He opened his mouth, no doubt to say something dripping with thinly veiled disdain or disrespect, when out of the shop came Severus and Henry, the latter carrying a bag almost as big as he was.

"Mummy, I got a Kiddish kit!"

"Severus," said Lucius coolly. Severus' eyes narrowed as his face contorted into a look that was nothing short of pure hatred.

"Lucius Malfoy, what are you doing here?"

"Same as the rest of you, presumably." He jerked his head toward the Honeydukes bag slung over Narcissa's arm. "Shopping."

"I wanted to pick up a few things to Owl Delphini," explained Narcissa. "She's having a difficult time adjusting."

"Is she?" The rage left Severus' face, replaced by worry. "I haven't received any word from her yet."

"You will," said Narcissa. "I only got my letter today. She says she wrote us at the same time. She isn't making friends and finds her classes less satisfying than she'd hoped. She's homesick."

"It takes time," said Hermione. "It's only Thursday. She hasn't even been there a week. I missed my parents something awful and didn't make friends until Halloween."

"That's because you were an insufferable know-it-all," teased Severus, unable to help himself.

"You're hilarious. Did you come up with that yourself, or hire a comedy writer?" she deadpanned.

Despite his extreme dislike over being in the presence of Lucius, Severus smiled at her response.

"Draco had friends before school even started," said Lucius. He sneered at Severus. "You did too, didn't you? That little Muggle-born girl. What was her name? Evans? Lily Evans? Whatever became of her? Oh, that's right. I remember."

Severus tightened his grip on his wand, but Henry's firm, trusting hold on his other hand kept him from doing anything rash. "I would like to speak with you a moment, Lucius. Privately. If you don't mind." Without awaiting an answer, Severus removed himself from Henry's grasp, grabbed Malfoy by the elbow, and pulled him partway down the street. Lucius jerked his arm away, but did not return to the group. In hushed tones, they began to speak.

"That vas uncomfortable," said Viktor Krum, appearing confused. "He vas a professor vhen you vere at Hogvarts, vasn't he? I recognize him. Professor Snipe?"

"Snape," corrected Hermione and Narcissa together.

"Snape," echoed Krum. "He vas friendly vith our headmaster, Karkaroff, if I am remembering."

"You're the famous Quidditch player, aren't you?" Narcissa asked Krum, looking him over as he had her. "You're more handsome in person than you are on your Chocolate Frog card."

"Viktor and I used to be pen-pals," said Hermione, an idea sparked in her mind. "I haven't had much time for letting writing in years, but with Delphini off at Hogwarts, I know you've got free hours you need to fill with... something. Perhaps...?"

"I _do_ like to write," Narcissa said, her cobalt blue eyes sparkling as if by their own magic. She placed her hand on Krum's bicep. "Perhaps you could teach me a bit of your language, and in exchange, I could teach you a few things I know that you may not."

Hermione raised her eyebrows and wondered whether she needed to be covering her children's eyes and ears for the rest of this conversation. She couldn't believe, considering what went on in the Malfoy home, that Narcissa was so obviously flirting with the former Quidditch player only steps away from her husband. Krum must have found that odd as well.

"But vhat vill your husband say?" he asked. "Vill he let you haff a... a pen-pal?"

"What he doesn't know isn't any of his business, is it?" Narcissa answered, surprising even herself with her boldness. "Besides... I may not be married much longer."

Though Hermione was now straining her ears to hear what Severus was hissing at Lucius, as it looked like their conversation was growing heated, this caught her attention. She looked to Narcissa with curiosity, but Narcissa was only focused on Viktor.

"Krum!" called the voice of a man out the door of Bludgers and Brooms. "If you don't get that money to Gringott's before they close..."

"I'm going now!" Krum shouted back. "He had been running the shop alone vhile I finished my last season. He forgets ve are equal partners."

"I hate it when that happens," said Narcissa. Hermione hid a snicker.

"Vell," said Krum, smiling. "It vas nice to haff met you. I haff to Apparate to Gringotts to make this deposit. But if I vanted to Owl you...?"

"Send your owl to Narcissa Malfoy at Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire," she said. "It'll find me."

"It vas nice to haff met you," he said again, a grin on his usually surly face. "And to see you again, Hermione, vith your lovely children. Good afternoon!"

"What was that?" asked Hermione the moment he'd crossed to the apparition point across the street (select apparition points had been put in after increased foot traffic into Hogsmeade resulted in several wizards and witches being crushed by other arriving witches and wizards, resulting in hospital stays and street duels). "You might not be married much longer?"

"Oh, I've been saying that to men for twenty-five years," said Narcissa, waving her hand dismissively. "I used to say it to... I used to say it a lot more than I do now. That Viktor Krum was good-looking though, wasn't he? How old is he? In his thirties? Did you see the way he looked at me? No one has looked at me like that since..." She glanced in the direction of her husband and Severus, who were still talking, both holding wands too rigidly down by their sides. "Well, it's been a long time, anyway."

"Mummy, I got a Kiddish kit!" said Henry, holding up the bag, ready to redirect the attention back to himself. "Pofessah let me pick it!"

Before Hermione could respond to him, a scuffle caught the attention of the group. Lucius and Severus were grappling in the street, drawing stares from a number of passersby, one of whom promptly whisked out a camera and began clicking away. Both Narcissa and Hermione hurried over to pull them apart. Henry picked up Severus' dropped wand as Helena retrieved that of Lucius. She held it out to the man, who snatched it roughly away, whereas Severus thanked Henry.

"Always a class act, you are," said Severus, wiping his bloody nose on his sleeve.

"And you're as easily provoked as ever," sneered Lucius, implying Severus had thrown the first punch.

"Go home, Malfoy," Severus replied, pinching the bridge of his still-bleeding nose. He tapped his wand to his nostril to make it stop. Though Lucius wasn't bleeding, he looked just as worse-for-wear, with what looked to be a glorious shiner developing over his left eye.

"Oh, I'll go home," Lucius said, grabbing hold of Narcissa's arm roughly and jerking her toward him. "I'll go home to my wife, where we'll discuss the future of my child. And you should go home, too. Home with your whore."

Severus raised his wand and Lucius did the same, but both Hermione and Narcissa intervened.

"Not in front of the children, please," Hermione said pleadingly, as Narcissa hissed to her husband, "You're making a scene, you fucking idiot."

"That's a bad word," whispered Helena. No one paid her any mind.

"Let's go," said Severus, lowering his wand first. He Vanished the blood, then lifted Henry back to his shoulders, taking the Quidditch bag from him. Hermione, still balancing Hero on her hip, took Helena's hand, as Narcissa, her long, thin fingers wrapped around Lucius's wrist, pointed out that they were being watched and could very well end up in the Prophet, which wouldn't look good for any of them, but would be especially bad for the newly elected head of Hogwarts' Board of Governors. This seemed to jar Lucius. He shook his head, nodded, and steered Narcissa toward the couples' apparition point, just down the road from the singles' section from which Krum had departed. Narcissa glanced at Hermione over her shoulder with a look so defeated Hermione almost wanted to run to her, to ask her to return to Spinner's End with them, to tell her to say "sod off" to Malfoy Manor and leave Lucius for good. But before she could even think of something to say, there were two distinct POPs, and the Malfoys had gone.

-0-0-0-

"So, is it true?" Piper Stone, a fellow Slytherin first year, asked Delphini in the common room after dinner on Wednesday. "Are you _really_ the daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"Yes," said Delphini. "That's hardly a secret."

"And your father... he's not... is he... You-Know-Who?"

"That's a rumor," said Delphini. "It's been rumored since the Daily Prophet found out I exist."

"You didn't answer my question," said Piper. She was about to ask again, but another girl from their year joined them in front of the fire.

"My parents said the Dark Lord had some good ideas, but he went about them the wrong way," whispered the girl, whose name was Charlotte Montague. She was plump and dark-haired with porcelain white skin, the polar opposite of slender, blonde, tan-and-freckled Piper. "My father said the Dark Lord shouldn't have tried to take over the world by force, with all that torture and killing, but through the Ministry with policy change. That's what my father and Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Rowle are doing now. Returning us to our rightful place with laws, not with violence."

"You know my uncle and Mr. Rowle?" asked Delphini. "I lived with Mrs. Rowle for a few months after my mother died, but I think her husband was in Azkaban then."

"Mr. Rowle works with my father," said Charlotte. "And your uncle is always at the Ministry, throwing his gold around. That's what my father says."

"So is it true, Delphini?" Piper pressed. "Is You-Know-Who your father? Do you remember him?"

"He's not my father," said Delphini, though she couldn't help sort of wishing he was, because she felt it might impress these girls. "And I... I remember him." This was a lie. She had only a couple of fractured memories of her mother, ones that mostly came to her in dreams, and absolutely none of Lord Voldemort. She doubled-down, glad to finally have someone talking to her like they cared about what she had to say.

"I remember him well. My mother lived with him, and so did I. He... he considered her his most faithful and loyal follower, his most brilliant and most valuable. He..." Severus Snape's face flashed before her eyes as a bout of guilt welled up inside her. She'd just sent him a letter by Owl two days earlier and was looking forward to hearing back. It felt like a betrayal to be bragging about the Dark Lord, considering what her father had told her. She suppressed the feeling and finished, "He took my mother way from school fourth year because she was too advanced for Hogwarts. Then he taught her _everything_ about the dark arts, because they only teach us defense against it here, and that's not what she needed to know. Before I was born he saved her at the Ministry of Magic and when I was a baby, hers was the only death that made him upset. He screamed, actually. He tried to avenge her."

"I know," said Piper, leaning forward conspiratorially. Charlotte did the same. "That was all in the Prophet, in the tenth anniversary edition. They called her his most loyal and capable, and they also called her his _mistress_."

"She wasn't his _mistress_ ," said Dephini, hating how dirty that word sounded. "She was his... his _girlfriend_. He... he picked her out special. He taught her _everything_. She loved him! And he... he..." Delphini bit her lip, trying her best _not_ to remember how good it had felt to have her father's arms around her when she cried on his couch. "My mother loved the Dark Lord, that's the truth, and... and... _and he loved her_!"

-0-0-0-

Once they'd returned to the home on Spinner's End, Hermione set Hero in her crib, read Henry a story until his eyelids were dropping, then told Helena that while she didn't need to nap, she did need to find a quiet activity to occupy her time over the next ninety minutes. Helena chose to continue working on the puzzle she'd started a couple of days earlier, so she returned to the sitting room and settled on the floor with the pieces in front of her on the low table.

Hermione and Severus moved into the kitchen for tea and a talk.

"What was that about?"

"What?" asked Severus, feigning innocence. "What was what about?"

"Don't be like that. What was your row with Malfoy about? What did you say to him? What did he say to you? How did it escalate to the two of you throwing punches in the street?"

"It was about you, your daughter, and my daughter. He suggested since I'm forging a relationship with mine, he ought to do the same with yours. I told him if he were smart he'd stay far away from both of you... and from Delphini too. I don't like that she's grown up exposed to... to what he does to Narcissa. He responded to this with disparaging remarks about you and he threatened to..." Severus suddenly became interested in the handle of his mug.

"Threatened to what, Severus? What did he threaten?"

"He asked how it would look, if he brought a custody case before the Ministry's Family Affairs Department, and you had admit that you're... that you're sleeping with a man who pays you for your time. I assured him he had again misinterpreted our relationship, but he said, as is always true in politics and the press, the truth doesn't matter, the perception does. He asked who wouldn't think the girl would be better off with a wealthy, well-respected two-parent family that already raised one successful child and was half through raising a second, rather than keeping the girl with her struggling mother, a woman who'd had three children by two different men, only one of whom she was married to, and then shacked up with his motherless niece's estranged father, a man much older than she – than you. I reminded him that to do this he would have to tell the Ministry what he'd done to you, but he said he thought, after all the years of marriage and the stress of the war and with becoming a grandfather, they would forgive his one transgression, especially as you..."

Again, Severus could only focus on his mug.

"Especially as I what?"

"As you offered yourself up to him to relieve a debt. He said his actions would be seen as momentary weakness, whereas you'd come across as a smart, calculating witch willing to fuck for money. He said it would set a precedent that our circumstance followed. He said he'd enjoy letting the wizarding world know what a slag you've become since the fall of the Dark Lord. Then he said..."

"Then he said...?"

"Then he said 'Of course, if you'd rather I keep away from your girlfriend, that can be arranged. We shall continue with the status quo. You'll raise my little bastard and I'll continue to raise yours. But keep in mind, your daughter, if she takes after her mother, is going to be developing into quite the lovely young woman in a couple of years. Do you truly want her at Malfoy Manor when she does?' That's when I hit him. But the new pain potion only keeps me from hurting as a result of the bite; it doesn't give me strength or make up for all the years I haven't been exercising. I'm weak and he quickly got in two much more effective hits."

"Merlin's beard," whispered Hermione, reaching out to take Severus' hand. "We can't let him have Hero. And we can't let Delphini go back there for Christmas."

"I don't want her going back there ever," said Severus. "And no matter what he tells the Ministry, if he goes that route, we won't let him have access to Hero, not even visitation. I'd kill him before I'd let him do to one of my children what the Dark Lord did to Bellatrix."

"Do you think he..." Hermione shuddered. "Do you think he really has an interest in children? Do you think he might have... Do you think...?"

"I don't think he's abused Delphini, if that's what you're asking. And I honestly don't think he would Hero either. Not like that. I think he only said it to get a rise out of me and I am ashamed to admit it worked. But the fact that he would even say it... It's bad enough the way he treats Narcissa. I don't want them exposed to that."

"Mummy?" Helena had quietly entered the room at some point during their discussion. She was hugging her doll to her chest. "Mummy, when you were talking to that mean old man and his wife today, I think I saw the scraggly beard man from the park again. I think I saw him through the window at the quill shop. I think he was looking at us. I think he took the beard off."

"What?" Hermione sat up straighter, forgetting, for the moment, Lucius' threats and subsequent scuffle with Severus. "Helena, are you sure?"

"I... I think so. I... I'm not sure. I..." Helena's lower lip trembled and Hermione knew tears were coming. "I don't know, Mummy. I don't know... but I think so. I think... I think maybe it was my dad!"

"Oh, Helena!" Hermione held out her arms and her daughter crawled up into her lap to be held. "Lovey, your dad can't come back, remember? He'd dead. Dead means..."

"I know, Mummy."

"Was it the same man from the park?" asked Severus. "Close your eyes. Picture him. Picture him in the window, and picture him behind the tree. Was it the same man? Did he have the scar? Think. This carefully. Think about his build, his eyes. Was it the same man?"

"I... I don't know. His beard was gone. His clothes were different. But I think... I think... I don't know!"

"You're making her more upset," hissed Hermione. "Helena, sweet girl, I think you miss your dad a bit, is that right?"

Helena nodded.

"I know how hard it is... how hard it is to lose someone we love. You might feel like you want to see that person again. Your mind might even trick you into thinking..."

"But the man at the park wasn't a figment of her imagination," said Severus. "He grabbed her. That obnoxious woman saw him."

"Yes," said Hermione calmly, "But you looked into her memories. You saw how she's confusing reality with fantasy, how she switched back and forth from seeing the man to seeing her father. Isn't it possible she's confusing the two, since the emotions of fear and loss are both so strong? You're the one who said that was probable."

"I know," said Severus, "But..."

Hermione interjected. "Helena, love, I think you were frightened by the man in the park. I think you're still a little scared, is that right?" Helena nodded. "I think you're afraid he's going to come back, and I think you're confusing that with wanting your dad to come back, and that's why you thought you saw him today, and why you think he might be your dad, but don't worry. We won't go back to that playground and we won't see that man again. He can't hurt you. And if... if you need to talk about your dad... maybe we can do that tonight before bed? Maybe I can help you remember him?"

It pained her to suggest this, but as much as she loathed her deceased ex-husband, the fact was that he'd been the older children's father, and he'd loved them, and they'd loved him. She needed to be sensitive to that.

"If you do see him again," said Severus, "You need to tell us straight away, no matter what we're doing or whom we're talking to. In case it is the same man... in case it is your father..."

"It's not her father, for goodness sakes!" snapped Hermione irritably, not keen to have him further confuse the fragile girl.

"You're right, Mummy," said Helena, wiping her tears on her mother's arm. "I got scared and confused." Hermione continued to hold the little girl while she and Severus discussed plans for the rest of the week, which included the possibility of taking the children to the London Eye, the massive Ferris wheel in London, which had just opened.

"Mummy?" Helena interrupted. "I'm going to finish my puzzle now."

"Alright, love." Hermione kissed her daughter on the forehead, gave her a squeeze, and watched her shuffle, doll in hand, back to the sitting room.

"Are we certain?" asked Severus once Helena was out of earshot. "Are we certain your ex-husband is dead?"

"Well, I certainly hope so," said Hermione. "Since they buried him."

"You needn't get snarky with me."

"You needn't put ideas in her head! She's impressionable."

"But what if she's right?"

"What if she's right and he's alive and well and walking around London and Diagon Alley when we just happen to be there?" Hermione shook her head. "It's not at all practical. Even the Resurrection Stone can't bring back the dead, Severus, not really. You know that as well as I do."

"You're right," he conceded. "Her mind was all jumbled, as the minds of children often are, and I did say she could be confusing the man with her father as a result of deeply buried feelings of loss and grief coupled with the fear she felt at almost being lost to us." This made the most sense, of course... but just to be safe, he'd be following Mad-Eye Moody's long ago given advice of "Constant Vigilance" next time they were out in public, be the place magical or Muggle, just in case.

"Alright, then," said Hermione, sounding relieved. She sipped the last of her tea, which had gone cold. "Now, please, let's talk more about Malfoy. How worried should I be? How serious do you reckon he was about going to the Ministry?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Please don't hate on Hermione here! She's a practical person. She can't help it. :) As usual, much love for all those reading, reviewing, following, and adding to faves! Look for chapter 36 at some point on Friday, probably at night NYC time - but if you think I am updating too frequently, not giving people enough time to read and catch up, please let me know. I received a PM about it and am worried others feel the same. Thanks! **–AL**


	36. What Do You Read?

**CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX**

 **What do you read?**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

"Isn't that your uncle?" Charlotte Montague held up the Daily Prophet, showing Delphini the picture on the front page. "The caption says 'Hogwarts Board of Governors' Chair Lucius Malfoy Twice Punches Former Hogwarts Headmaster and War Hero Severus Snape in Hogsmeade on Thursday Afternoon'!"

"Severus Snape?" Delphini's stomach flip-flopped. It was breakfast time on Friday. She was, of course, dining in the Great Hall, quite possibly in the very spot her mother had been murdered by Molly Weasley. She'd so far been spending the meal shooting daggers with her eyes at the back of Victoire Weasley's head. She tore her eyes from the girl's waist-length platinum hair and focused on the paper in front of her. Over and over again she watched as her (secret) father punched her uncle, only to receive two punches in return, while her aunt, that Granger Mud... er... Muggle-born, and her three children were watching. "What happened?"

"Don't know! The article has lots of nonsense details we already know, how Snape was a double-agent turned recluse and how your uncle went to Azkaban for being a Death Eater 'but has dedicated himself to restitution in the decade since,' but nothing about why they were fighting except maybe because they used to be friends until Snape betrayed You-Know-Who. See?" Charlotte passed the paper to Delphini, who read the article, but it offered no clues beyond what the other girl had already revealed, though it did erroneously identify the youngest Granger offspring as Delphini's cousin's son, Scorpius.

"Weird..." Delphini handed the paper back to Charlotte and returned to her porridge, trying to act like this news didn't matter to her at all... but it did. Though she had absolutely no reason to think so, she couldn't help wondering if the fight between her uncle and her father had been about her.

-0-0-0-

"You've made the Daily Prophet," said Hermione, passing the paper to Severus on Friday morning. She and the children had stayed over at his home again, but only after she made it clear to them (and to Severus) that they would be returning home to the London flat over the weekend "So as not to overstay our welcome."

"Do I want to see?" Severus set down his coffee beside his breakfast plate. He had done this cooking this morning: black pudding, toast, baked beans, and eggs. Helena refused the black pudding (Hermione insisted the girl try a _bite_ of the blood sausage before declaring she hated it), Henry wanted nothing but baked beans and Chocolate Frogs (Hermione served him eggs and vetoed the Frogs), and Hero was making a mess of her toast (Hermione kept the rest of the toddler's food out of her reach, giving only a little at a time).

"The good news is, they got your punch in the picture. But the bad news is, Lucius landed his better." She slid the paper across the table to him. He sighed upon sight of the black and white moving photograph which did indeed show him punching first, blackening Malfoy's eye, only to get it back two-fold, as Lucius hit him in the nose and stomach. To the corner of the frame, Hermione looked shocked and Narcissa annoyed. Even the children had made in into the shot.

"Excellent," said Severus dryly. "Now all the wizarding world knows I am indeed alive and well and not at all mentally-infested with Wrackspurts."

"I'm glad you're amused," said Hermione. She flipped the paper over to keep curious Helena, who was craning her neck across the table, from seeing the image.

"Pofessah hit the bad man!" shouted Henry, up on his knees in his chair. He punched the air as if fighting an invisible monster. "Bam! Bam! Bam! Pofessah wins!"

"Henry! Fighting is no way to solve our problems," Hermione chastised. "We use our words, not our hands."

"Pofessah use hands," argued Henry. "Fuck words!"

"Henry!" Hermione slapped the table, shaking her coffee cup. "What have I told you about that word?"

"Henry," said Severus, using what he hoped was a firm but not too intimidating tone. "What I did yesterday was wrong. I lost my head. Your mother is correct. When you have a... a disagreement... with someone else, you use your words. But not bad words. Appropriate words. No fists. No punches. No f-word. Understand, young man?"

Henry's face fell. He settled back on his bottom on the chair, staring at his plate, and did not speak, his little lower lip trembling. Severus immediately felt guilty – though it was for all the wrong reasons, he had momentarily been the boy's hero, and he wanted that back. Thus he waved his wand, summoning over something he knew would return the smile to the boy's face.

"Chocwat Fwog!" shouted Henry, eagerly taking it.

"Severus Snape!" Now _he_ was on the receiving end of Hermione's scolding. "You cannot reprimand the boy then hand him candy! Besides, he hasn't finished his breakfast."

"I finish," said Henry, pushing away his plate. He held the Frog back out toward Severus, grinning. "Open?"

-0-0-0-

"Well, you made the Daily Prophet's front fucking page, you great twat." Narcissa slapped Lucius in the chest with the newspaper as he prepared to take his seat at the dining room table for breakfast. "Are you bloody proud of yourself?"

"Do you have to use those words?" asked Lucius derisively. "Fucking? Twat? Bloody? You sound like you should be working on a dock somewhere, or selling your wares in a rundown pub."

"You're the one all over the news for having roughed up an injured war hero, and you're lecturing _me_ about my conduct? At least I'm using these words in the privacy of our own home and not in Hogsmeade, surrounded by reporters."

"We were not 'surrounded by reporters.'" Lucius sat and rubbed his temples, elbows resting on the table, wishing he had a hangover solution on hand. "Let me see the paper."

He looked it over, first the picture, then the article, which he merely skimmed.

"Look," said Narcissa, pointing to the corner of the frame. "They even managed to get your bastard child in the frame. They wrongfully identified her as..."

"'Scorpius Malfoy, grandson of Lucius and Narcissa (Black) Malfoy, son of Draco and Astoria (Greengrass) Malfoy.' Lovely. Has Draco seen this?"

"How should I know? He hasn't come down yet. I'm certain Delphini has, though, and she'll know straight away that girl isn't Scorpius. What do you reckon she'll think?"

"I don't much care what your niece thinks, frankly. I'm more concerned with the reaction of the Hogwarts Board of Governors." It suddenly dawned on him that this would look terrible in front of the Ministry, should he attempt to take custody of the child away from her mother. "Oh, fuck."

"Such language, Lucius! Shouldn't you be working on a dock or selling yourself in a pub with a mouth like that?"

"You're awfully bold this morning, for a self-proclaimed 'battered wife.'" During an argument upon returning from Hogsmeade the previous afternoon, Narcissa had lit into Lucius about his 'anger issues' and 'lack of self-control,' and he'd responded by grabbing her roughly by the arm and threatening to show her what true anger looks like, to which she'd replied, 'Trust me, as a battered wife, I know what true anger looks like.' This led, not to the increasingly damaging physical violence she'd come to expect from him over the last twelve or so years, but to the release of her arm and retreat into his own bedroom, where he'd spent the night getting pissed and wondering when and how his perfect life had gone so very wrong.

"If you were afraid of me, Narcissa, you wouldn't purposely make me angry."

"If you could get angry without hitting me..." she began, but he cut her off.

"You bring it on yourself, witch."

She shook her head. "Someday, Lucius, I will reach the end of my rope, so to speak, and I'll leave. I'll leave you and you'll be all alone, because no other pureblood, dignified, reasonably attractive, self-respecting woman would be willing to put up with you. I swear, I'll do it."

"You've been saying that for over a decade, Mother. If you meant it, you'd have gone already."

Narcissa cringed and Lucius sighed, as they turned to spot Draco entering the dining room, Scorpius in his arms. Narcissa hated for her son or grandson to witness their fights, whether verbal or physical.

The young man kissed his mother good morning, placed the toddler in his seat, and nodded at his father. "Astoria is not feeling up to eating this morning. She insisted Scorpius and I come down anyway. No sense in all of us going hungry. I'll have one of the elves bring her up a croissant and some fruit in an hour or so, maybe tea or pumpkin juice. She needs to keep her strength up."

"Nana!" said Scorpius, reaching out toward Narcissa. She lifted him from the seat on which Draco had just placed him, kissed his cheeks, and snuggled him. He giggled delightedly.

"Before either of you ask, yes, I saw the Prophet this morning. Father, what were you thinking? You bloodied the nose of a _war hero_ who's famously still in recovery from his near-fatal injuries, in front of three children and a dozen shoppers! None of whom happened to be my son, contrary to the belief of that reporter."

"That's Hermione Granger's youngest," said Narcissa, tapping her mug with her wand to warm up her tea. "A girl, Hero. Over a year old, but under two. Cute, isn't she? Odd that they assumed she was Scorpius, though. Must be the hair. And the eyes. And the nose. And the..."

"Yes, well," Draco interjected. He glanced at his father. "I won't deny the resemblance to my son. Or to me at that age. I don't suppose her ex-husband had white-blond hair and..." He picked up the paper to re-read the description of the child, though he knew quite well what it said. "And steel grey eyes?"

"I don't suppose he did," said Narcissa coolly. She returned Scorpius to his own seat.

"No comment, Father?"

"What do you want me to say, Draco?" asked Lucius. He snapped his fingers, annoyed that the house-elf still hadn't come to take their breakfast order. "It was a one-time lapse in judgment, I assure you."

Narcissa, unable to help herself, sniggered at this. "You mean one time with her specifically, not one time in all the years since we've been married, correct?"

"Narcissa..." said Lucius in a warning tone. Before he could go on, Draco spoke again, not trying to conceal the contempt in his voice.

"For all I know, you've got blond-haired, grey-eyed illegitimate children scattered all over Europe, Father. Growing up, I always wanted a sibling. I never considered I might have one. Or more. If people find out about this, how will it look? I have worked countless hours, given away a considerable amount of gold, and volunteered my time, time I could be spending with my wife and son, all in an attempt to restore our family name, to keep it from being the mud it was worth after the Final Battle, and this is how you've spent _your_ time? Fathering a child with a member of the Golden Trio? A woman less than half your age? What was she thinking? More importantly, what were _you_ thinking?!"

"Draco, darling," said Narcissa, reaching across the table to pat his arm. "I had no idea you'd be so upset about this. You're more bothered by your father's indiscretion than by his penchant for beating me. I'm shocked to learn I raised a son with such misplaced priorities."

"You've _chosen_ to remain married to a man who beats you, Mother," said Draco, unwilling to let her manipulate how he should feel about the situation. "You've spent a dozen years threatening to leave but we all know you won't, no matter how bad it gets, and that's your choice. I'm past trying to reason with you, either of you. But this baby? This little girl, no older than Scorpius? What choices does she have? She didn't ask to be born to... him."

"I cannot discern whether you mean to insult me more as a husband, or as a father, Draco," said Lucius, his voice silky and smooth and almost-bored, as if discussing business or the weather.

"A bit of both, I suppose, Father."

"You've never forgiven me for having failed at the Ministry, have you, son?"

"Since then, Father, you've done so many equally unforgivable things, the fiasco at the Ministry and all that resulted hardly register anymore."

"Pity," said Lucius. He snapped again for the elf. "I was once your hero."

"That was before your actions sent you to prison and nearly made me a murderer, before I spent two years wondering whether the Dark Lord would kill me or Mother first as punishment for your failings, and before I started to worry that _you_ might actually be the one to end up killing Mother. That's before I knew who you were, and, more importantly, before I knew who _I_ wanted to be."

"You wanted to be _me,"_ Lucius pointed out. "Remember?"

"I have no desire to someday beat my wife to death as I assume you do. You are cruel, and she's complacent."

"Don't let's be melodramatic, Draco!" said Narcissa. "No one is getting beaten to _death."_

"I'm simply saying, the first fourteen years of my life have had little in common with the last fourteen. Of course..." Draco picked up the paper. "Substitute out Snape here for Arthur Weasley and Hogsmeade for Diagon Alley and I suppose not much has actually changed."

Finally, with a POP, a house-elf appeared. Her ears were drooping, her eyes were puffy, her nose was running, and it was clear she was quite ill. She bowed low and apologized for her tardiness, knowing being sick would get her punished.

"You are having breakfast?" she asked, her voice high and squeaky and stuffed up.

"No," said Draco. He stood, lifted Scorpius, and shot a look of disgust at his parents before heading toward the exit. "I've lost my appetite."

"Children," said Narcissa dismissively, rolling her eyes. "They hit twenty-eight and they think they know everything."

-0-0-0-

After breakfast, Delphini's letter to Severus finally arrived, delivered by a fat, wheezy, tawny Hogwarts owl who reminded Severus of a winged Horace Slughorn.

"What does it say?" asked Hermione, peering over his shoulder nosily. He smiled.

"She's having fun, making friends, enjoying her classes... I don't see why Narcissa was worried. Perhaps she was simply looking for an excuse to go to Hogsmeade?"

"I told you!" said Hermione. She kissed his cheek. "Not even there a week and already settling in quite nicely. Aren't you glad you didn't rush up to the school and embarrass her in front of her new friends?"

"You were right," he said, folding the letter and placing it in his breast pocket. Delphini was doing fine. Better than fine. This was, to put it mildly, a relief.

-0-0-0-

He placed the last piece of Lucius' Malfoy's wand in a leather pouch, wrapped in another note, and tied it to the leg of the owl. Phase One of his plan was complete.

He'd nearly made a massive mistake the other day, grabbing the girl from the playground like that. He'd lost his head. It wouldn't happen again. He saw what happened last time he let impulse take control. It had lost him his hold on Malfoy, nearly lost him everything.

No, he had to remain patient. Rushing would gain him nothing and could cost him everything.

He opened the window and watched the bird fly out into the late afternoon air. His only regret was that he would not see the look on Narcissa Malfoy's face when she opened this one.

-0-0-0-

Hermione and the children did indeed return to their own home on Friday evening. Severus stayed for dinner, helped put the children to bed, then kissed his girlfriend (juvenile as it seemed, he liked mentally referring to her by that title rather than her name, as it was still new). He was prepared to return home promptly to sleep, but one kiss turned into another, and another, and another, and before they knew it they were having a quick shag on the couch, careful not to wake the little ones, since the flat provided much less of a barrier between them than the house did. He returned for dinner on Saturday and again on Sunday, then she brought the children back to Spinner's End with her on Monday, but, despite how much she wanted to, they did not stay over.

"Pwease stay?" asked Henry when it was time to say goodbye. "I want my woom at Pofessah house. I want my twains. I want Chocwat Fwogs. I want my Pofessah's bedtime stowy."

"I could tell you a story before you go," said Severus, also wishing to prolong their visit. He sat on the couch with Helena and Henry to either side of him and told them, from memory, an abridged child-friendly version of Shakespeare's King Lear, about a king who lived long ago with his three daughters, one of whom truly loved him, and two who only pretended to in order to suit their own means, and the mistake the king made by believing the two daughters who lied and not the one who refused to. When the tale was told, he received enthusiastic hugs from both children, which still felt a bit foreign to him, but not unwelcome, ticked Hero's tummy, and kissed Hermione carefully on the cheek.

The following day was Tuesday, the ninth of September, Hermione's twenty-ninth birthday. True to their word, Rolf and Luna were willing to babysit. They did so at her flat as Hermione figured there was a lot less trouble for the kids to get into there (plus Helena knew how to work the VCR) than at Severus' home. Silly as it seemed, considering she'd spent half the summer leaving the trio with a twelve-year-old, Hermione was nervous about releasing them to the care of the oddball Ravenclaw and her husband-to-be, but both Severus and the couple assured her there was nothing to worry about.

"I've never had children, obviously," said Luna, "But I raised a small flock of Golden Snidgets after Hogwarts and most of them survived to adulthood."

"Aren't they birds?" asked Hermione, suddenly looking uneasy again. "Wait, what do you mean _most_ of them survived?"

"Time to go!" said Severus, steering her toward the door.

"Have a nice time!" called Rolf. Hermione turned back just in time to see Henry, a devilish grin on his face, swipe Rolf's wand from his pocket, but Helena, standing behind her brother, took it from his hand and returned it without the man being any the wiser. Severus hurried her away before she could see anything more.

They were dressed up, but not overly so. He was in a moss green button down Muggle shirt and black trousers, the most color she'd ever seen him in, while she wore a silky maroon blouse, black pencil skirt, and gold jewelry, and both had thrown on their fall coats, as it was a chilly evening. Hermione also wore a touch of eye-make up and a natural lip stain, with her hair down but magically tamed, and Severus' hair was pulled back into a low ponytail.

They walked with arms linked, which she liked.

"Do you realize we're representing our House colors?" she asked. "All you need is a touch of silver to complete the look."

"I could charm my shoes to make them silver," he said. "What do you think?"

"I think that would be hideous."

"Excellent." Ensuring no Muggles were watching, he pulled out his wand, pointing it toward his feet. She grabbed his wrist.

"Don't you dare!"

Smirking, he returned the wand to his coat pocket and again took her arm.

"Are we apparating to Poor Yorick's?"

"No. We're traveling like Muggles to a Muggle establishment that I hope you will enjoy. And if you don't enjoy it, well, I will, so at least the evening won't be a total loss. For me."

"You're an awful man," she said, but she was smiling. "Where is this Muggle place?"

"A football match," he said. Her jaw dropped as disappointment swept across her face, but she quickly forced the smile back, trying to hide it.

"I'm sure I'll enjoy it," she said, wondering if his natural skills as a Legilimens would reveal this to be a lie. He chuckled.

"No, you wouldn't. And that's not where we are headed."

"Oh, thank goodness."

"It's your birthday, Hermione, not mine. You shouldn't have to settle for something you wouldn't enjoy. If I were really planning to take you to see two teams of Muggles play football, that would be remarkably daft on my part, but rather than pretending to be happy, I'd prefer you tell me how you really feel."

"I really feel that I would absolutely hate spending my birthday – or, quite honestly, any other day – sitting in an uncomfortable seat surrounded by sports fanatics cheering for a bunch of grown men kicking a ball around. Quidditch is trying enough and that's, at least, played on broomsticks, which ups both the danger and the stakes significantly. Where are we really headed?"

"We are headed to the theatre, to the West End production of Hamlet. It's still in previews but one of my former students – one of the precious few who did not loathe me – is involved in the production and was therefore able to secure us tickets. But do not let that pressure you into pretending to enjoy it. If you'd rather not spend the start of your twenty-ninth year watching an incredibly long production about a man who spends a third of his time consulting the ghost of his dead father, a third of his time contemplating vengeance, and a third of his time being nasty to his mother for having married his uncle, I will completely understand and we shall do something else."

"Severus, I would love to accompany you to an incredibly long production of Hamlet at a Muggle theatre in the West End, though I am not certain he could divide his time in the ways you've listed because, as I recall, he also had time left over to torment his poor put-upon girlfriend, Ophelia, to the point of madness."

"Ah, that's right. How could I forget?"

They were, as he'd hoped, early in arriving to the theatre. Since they'd eaten dinner with the children, he asked if she wanted to grab a drink before the show, gesturing toward a nearby establishment. She said yes.

Though the place was more bar than restaurant, it was not the pub type – no drunken university students or sulky unsuccessful businessmen or lonely women hoping to find someone with whom to spend the night. It was mostly quiet couples, like them, at tiny round tables or on high stools with hard backs at the bar. The entire place was candlelit, giving it a magical impression most Muggle places lacked. They chose the last remaining round table over stools and ordered – a Kit's Coty Estate chardonnay for her, a Chivas Regal scotch for him.

"I know I tell you this regularly and I hope that doesn't make what I'm saying lose value, but you're beautiful," said Severus, looking at Hermione so discerningly, as if appraising a fine work of art, that she blushed.

"Thank you," she said. "You look handsome."

"I don't."

"You do. You always do. Especially when your hair is back like this, so I can better see your face."

"I wear my hair down to spare both you and the general public from having to look upon my face," he said, only half-joking.

"You have lovely eyes and a strong jaw and nice lips and I like the shape of your eyebrows," she said. "I even like your nose, and I know you hate your nose."

"I do indeed hate my nose." He drummed his fingers on the table. "Do you really like the shape of my eyebrows? What an odd compliment. I don't believe anyone has ever mentioned my eyebrows before – positively or negatively – and I'm not sure what to make of that."

"You have a nice natural arch. I pay for my arch. I get them waxed, the Muggle way. It hurts, but otherwise I would have one long fuzzy unshaped caterpillar stretching across my forehead."

"I would think you're beautiful even if you had one long fuzzy caterpillar stretching across your forehead. So... waxing them... what is that like?"

She described the process, he nodded, their drinks were delivered, they thanked the waitress, and then they stared at each other for several moments, wondering where to go from here. Finally, Severus said, "It's odd, isn't it? What happens when we go out, alone, on... on a date? We can talk for hours on your couch..."

"Or in your bed..."

"Or while brewing potions..."

"Or in the garden..."

"Or in my sitting room..."

"Or while neglecting the children on the playground..."

"I must say, we're improving," he said. "Last date, we talked extensively about the weather."

"Is eyebrow shape _really_ an improvement?"

"I can't say. What do normal people typically discuss on dates?"

"Who knows?"

"Don't you? You've..." he cleared his throat. "You've been on more dates than I have. I'd been sleeping with Charity a year before we went out to dinner the first time, and as I recall, we spent the bulk of the time complaining about our students."

"Well, that's romantic."

"It was," Severus insisted. "As a Hufflepuff, she found my love of unfairly deducting House Points from Gryffindors utterly charming."

"Or she was just pretending to like whatever you like with the hope of getting you into bed later."

"I thought only men did that."

"Are you serious? _I_ did that not an hour ago, pretending to be excited about football."

"Oh? I'd assumed you were trying not to hurt my feelings. Had I known you were actually trying to get me into bed I might have made a reservation at an inn instead of a theatre."

She rolled her eyes, but chuckled.

"So, what sorts of things did you do on dates?"

"It's hard to say. Ronald and I didn't exactly date. We spent time with Harry and Ginny, mostly. Once we were married... it didn't take long before one of us realized we didn't have much to talk about, so we went out all the time, mostly with other people, or to Quidditch matches, because that's what he liked – though I wasn't trying to get him into bed – or we spent time at the Burrow, where his parents live. With Reginald..." Her stomach contorted painfully. She'd loved every date with Reginald, so much so it still hurt to think about... not only because of what he'd done to her and how it had ended, but because it had ended, and thinking about him then, about the man she'd dated and fallen fast in love with, still had her heartbroken and confused. "Let's talk more about your relationship with Professor Burbage. Where did you go on holiday together?"

"Let's not spend your birthday, our second date, discussing my ex who was murdered after begging me to help her." His expression had darkened, as he was suddenly unable to get the image of her hovering above the Malfoy's dining room table out of his mind.

"I'm so sorry!" Hermione clapped a horrified hand over her mouth. Severus reached out, took her wrist, and gently pulled her hand down, holding it between both of us.

"Don't be sorry. _I_ brought her up. Let's talk about something else though... How about... literature?"

She brightened. "Very well! What's the best book you've ever read, the one you could read a thousand times and never grow bored of?"

"It just so happens I read several books a thousand times over during my solitary convalescence," he said. "And though picking one favorite is not easy, I'd have to say..."

-0-0-0-

Long after curfew, Delphini sneaked out of Slytherin common room and all the way up to the Astronomy tower. She leaned on the opening of the window, letting the cool breeze blow back her uncombed hair, staring out of the dark grounds of Hogwarts castle.

Here, in this very tower, her father had used the Killing Curse to end the life of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, in part by request to save the old man his dignity, and in part to avoid the splintering of her cousin Draco's soul, to keep him from turning into a murderer... like her mother.

Delphini had been four months old in June, 1997. Her mother hadn't gone to Hogwarts that night. The Dark Lord had sent other followers. Her mother had stayed home, presumably with her, to nurse her, to care for her. To _mother_ her.

"Why couldn't you stay home during the Final Battle, too?" Delphini asked into the wind. "Why couldn't you have cared enough to stay with me then?"

It occurred to her for the first time that, had her father succumbed to the snake's bite on that fateful night, she would've been made an orphan. She would have lost both of her parents in the same short span, parents who were fighting on opposite sides of a destructive, ugly war.

What if her aunt Narcissa had died then, too? Who would've taken care of her? Would she have been raised by Euphemia Rowle, a woman who hated her so much she barely fed her and regularly spanked her and called her a bad omen? After all, that's where she'd languished until finally Auntie returned to take her home, months after letting her stepfather decree she be sent there. Thankfully, Delphini had little memory of that place, save for the cry of the woman's ugly old bird, an Augury. She sniffled.

"He didn't even love you and you died for him. I loved you, I still love you, but you chose to die for him over living for me. Sometimes... sometimes, Mummy, I think I hate you!" Tears were forming. "And my father, he was ready to die for Harry Potter. If he'd known about me, would he have still been willing to die? Do I have two parents who would rather die for people who didn't love them than live for me?" She wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve. "Will he even write back?"

Delphini had lied in her letter to Severus. Save for the first sentence – _"I was sorted into Slytherin,"_ the letter was naught but lies.

 _"_ _I love school."_

 _"_ _I'm making friends."_

 _"_ _My teachers like me."_

 _"_ _My classes are interesting."_

 _"_ _No one has mentioned my mother."_

 _"_ _I might want to stay over Christmas holiday!"_

She wasn't sure why she lied to him. She'd been much more candid in her letter to Aunt Narcissa. Perhaps she wasn't ready to confide in him yet.

Or perhaps she was afraid he wouldn't like her much if he knew the truth.

 _"_ _I hate school."_

 _"_ _I have no friends."_

 _"_ _My teachers ignore me."_

 _"_ _My classes are mostly dull."_

 _"_ _Everyone has mentioned my mother."_

 _"_ _I don't think I'll last until Christmas holiday."_

She leaned further out the window, staring straight down, wondering if Dumbledore had been afraid to die.

In her head, she could hear the cry of the Augury.

-0-0-0-

Conversation flowed easily over wine and scotch and by the time Severus and Hermione headed, hand-in-hand, back to the theatre for the show, the initial awkwardness had dissipated.

The show was indeed long, but well directed, well acted, well lit, and well costumed. Aside from the fact that the man playing Polonius had a rather pronounced lisp that occasionally took them out of the moment, they hadn't a single complaint about the production.

They returned home to her flat and were amused to find Rolf and Luna the way they had Professor McGonagall the night of their first date: completely engrossed in an animated Disney movie.

"I have never seen this magic box before," said Luna dreamily. "It is like a book, with photographs, and music, and color, and though I haven't spotted a single Nargle or Wrackspurt or Crumple-horned Snorkack, it's undeniably fascinating!"

"I saw a movie in a cinema once," said Rolf, "But it had real people, not these... funny ones."

"It's a cartoon, drawn by artists," explained Hermione. "How were Helena, Henry, and Hero?"

"Who?" asked Luna distractedly, still staring at the screen over Hermione's shoulder.

"Why are they singing again?" asked Rolf, also staring. "They sing their speeches!"

"I thought I needed a job in order to pay my bills," said Hermione, glancing at Severus. "Instead I should've put an ad about my television in the Daily Prophet and charged purebloods money to come over and watch it!"

The movie ended finally, so Hermione waved her wand, shutting it off, which seemed to break Luna and Rolf from their trance. She and Severus thanked the couple again for babysitting and reaffirmed their promise to meet for lunch at the former Hog's Head on Sunday before Luna and Rolf were off to Greece.

Not half an hour later, with a silencing charm placed around the room and a ward on the bedroom door so the children could not exit without sounding an alarm, Hermione was on her back on the couch Severus transfigured into a bed. He was on top of her, thrusting, grunting, filling her, fucking her... making love to her... as she, over and over again, cried out his name.


	37. Speak Daggers, Use None

**CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN**

 **Speak daggers but use none.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

The rest of September passed uneventfully and suddenly they were immersed in the cool blustery days of October. Severus and Hermione fell into a routine. During much of the week, she and the children were at his home, and more often than not they stayed over, but she insisted upon returning to her flat every weekend, and also insisted that they spend at least two nights apart per week "so as not to rush anything," which he understood but did not enjoy.

At first, they made love every night they were fortunate enough to spend together, sometimes twice before sunrise, but as the initial hormonal response to the end of both their self-imposed terms of celibacy dissipated they became more like any other couple, having sex when the mood struck and simply curling up together to sleep when exhaustion took it off the table.

They went out regularly, to the playground and the zoo, to museums and even to a family paint class, which Severus had promised to hate but ended up genuinely enjoying, going so far as to display his watercolor of an owl on a branch on the bedroom wall beside hers. They'd placed the ones made by Henry and Helena in what had been his childhood bedroom, and Hero's finger paint masterpiece found its home in the kitchen.

Hermione continued to work for Severus two hours per day, three days a week, at his home on Spinner's End while the younger children were napping, as she insisted she needed to earn the pay he continued to give her, and he currently had no desire to see her need to take a different job.

Helena spent those two napping hours per day three days per week either engaged in a quiet activity or helping the adults. She especially enjoyed carefully sorting and alphabetizing ingredients in Severus' potions storage space and tilling in the garden. She didn't even mind dusting or helping with laundry, anything to be useful and exposed to the chatter of adults. Sometimes they'd almost seem to forget she was there, and that was her favorite time, as the talk became less censored thus giving her bits of information to squirrel away and bring up intelligently in conversation later. At only five and a half years old, the precocious girl was more than ready to be treated like one of the adults, and found it frustrating whenever her mother would remind her of her age and order her to "go play."

She hadn't seen the scary scarred man in weeks and soon stopped having nightmares about him. She still missed her father, missed being his Helly Bean, but she was liking Professor Snape more with each passing week... though sometimes she couldn't help feeling jealous of his relationship with Henry, who seemed to be his favorite.

Severus, meanwhile, continued to receive letters from Delphini, once per week, as promised, and he wrote back promptly to each and every one.

Though she was still a sparse writer, he began to worry whether she'd deliberately misled him with her first letter, as each seemed to show an increasing level of unhappiness. Nothing major – she did not complain of feeling bullied by other students or overwhelmed by her studies – but there were hints of issues bubbling below the surface, lines like "The older kids are going on their first Hogsmeade trip soon. Wish the rest of the First Years were going too. I'd like the castle all to myself!" and "I'm happy my hair is black and curly like my mother's. I would hate to have stupid white-blonde straight Veela hair that makes the boys stare. Boys are gross."

To be honest, Severus hadn't even realized these were indicative of possible problems. Hermione had pointed it out.

"Oh, she must not be making friends like she said she was," she said disappointedly, taking the latest letter from him over breakfast one morning. "If she was, she'd want to go there with them, not have the castle to herself."

"Are you certain? I wouldn't have minded having the castle to myself."

"Even though you had tons of friends?"

He scowled.

"See? And this about the hair..."

"She likes her hair. That's good, isn't it? And she's right. Boys are disgusting. I hope she stays far away from them for a long time. I know what teenage boys think about. I was one."

"She's not really glad not to have Veela hair. She's jealous. She may truly think boys are disgusting, but at the same time, she might not mind being so pretty they stare. Didn't she asked you more than once whether you found her mother pretty? And she looks like her mother..."

"Girls don't think about things like that," said Severus. "Not at eleven! Shouldn't she be worried about... about homework... and... and playing with dolls?"

"A girl can worry about homework and play with dolls and question whether she's pretty enough to be noticed by boys she doesn't even like all at the same time, even at age eleven."

"I want to be pretty," Helena piped up. "Am I pretty?"

"Don't worry about being pretty." Hermione handed the letter back to Severus. "We'll continue this discussing during nap time."

"Should I speak with Minerva?" Severus topped off his pumpkin juice, then added more into the nearly empty cups of Helena and Henry.

"Not yet," said Hermione. "Write back to Delphini. We want to her to continue to open up to you and if you fly off to the Headmistress now you risk breaking her trust. But it's something to be aware of. Perhaps you should also write to Narcissa?"

"Is Narcissa your daughter's mum?" asked Helena. "Are you divorced? My mum and dad got divorced. Then he died."

"Delphini's mother died when she was a baby," explained Severus. "Narcissa is her aunt."

"Pofessah's mum die," Henry piped up, happy to have something to add to the conversation. "But Pofessah not sad. Is a long time ago. Wight?"

"Right." Severus was surprised the boy remembered that. He opened his mouth to say more, but Hero, apparently growing bored with both the meal and the chatter, grabbed a handful of scrambled eggs and chucked them at her mother.

"Not appropriate!" scolded Hermione, shaking yellow egg from her hair as Hero and Henry giggled madly.

"Not appropriate!" echoed Helena, hands on hips, staring down her sister.

And though Severus knew he shouldn't, as doing so would only encourage the naughty behavior, he couldn't help but laugh.

-0-0-0-

"Excellent work, Miss Black! Ten points to Slytherin!" chirped tiny little Professor Flitwick, who was standing behind his desk atop a tall pile of old textbooks.

Delphini beamed. It was turning out she had a natural knack for Charms. It was, arguably, her best class, though she was thus far also excelling in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Transfiguration was tricky despite Professor Terry Boot's attempts to make it both educational and fun. He was not the best teacher, Delphini decided, after the day they'd been instructed to turn a matchstick into a needle and not one student out of all the Slytherins and Ravenclaws had managed, despite having a double period in which to do so. What were the odds _every single kid_ was rubbish at it? But Professors Rosier, Chang-Zabini, and Flitwick were pros, and she strived to be the best pupil in each of their respective classes.

She'd been the only student in her entire potions class (of Slytherins and Hufflepuffs) to receive perfect marks on her Wiggenweld Potion, the first practical they'd been assigned thus far.

"I suspect it's in your blood," said Professor Rosier, and for a wild moment Delphini thought she must mean she'd gotten it from the former potions master. Professor Rosier must somehow know that Severus Snape was her father, and Delphini was happy to be compared to a parent who was... well... not her mother. But then Professor Rosier added in a low whisper, "I sat in this very room and learned alongside your mother in the early sixties, until she disappeared. We're distant cousins, actually, and though we were in different Houses..." (Professor Rosier was a proud former Ravenclaw who wore a blue and bronze silk scarf draped over black robes every day) "We often chatted over our cauldrons. She was an exceptionally talented witch. Such a pity, what happened later..."

Delphini nodded and thanked the professor, though the mention of her mother made her nose twitch most uncomfortably, a sure sign pesky tears were on the horizon. She swallowed them back and bottled her perfect potion to hand in.

The following day, upon entering Greenhouse 2 for Herbology, Professor Longbottom greeted her pleasantly, though he still avoided meeting her eye.

"We are repotting Mandrakes today," said Longbottom. "This used to be a task left only to Second Years, but curriculum changes with time and I feel you can all manage." He went through the usual spiel about the importance of earmuffs and not getting bitten by their short but sharp teeth, then set the class to it.

Thanks to the earmuffs, Delphini didn't hear the two Gryffindor girls approaching her from behind. One pretended to trip and bumped into Delphini, 'accidentally' dislodging her earmuffs, while the other knocked her pot, just-planted Mandrake and all, to the floor. There was a crash and the shatter of ceramic, which only Delphini fully heard, as the earmuffs muffled the sound to everyone else. Then, the Mandrake began to cry... and Delphini's world went dark.

-0-0-0-

It was nearly midnight. Henry and Helena were sound asleep in the bed they shared at Severus' home and Hero was snoozing away in her crib. Hermione and Severus were in the cellar lab, brewing side by side (she was stirring the contraceptive potion as she was running low, while he brewed a batch of Veritaserum at the Ministry's request. It seemed they were worried about possible Dark activity within their ranks and wanted to test out the loyalty of a few wizards and witches presumably without their consent. Severus did not approve of the Ministry's methods, but they were offering a handsome sum in exchange for his efforts, and if it helped to keep another Tom Riddle or Gellert Grindelwald from radicalizing half the Wizarding world it was worth it.

When his had reached the point that it needed to simmer for twenty-four hours, he moved to stand behind Hermione, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his lips to her temple.

"Sometimes I don't remember the girl I was at Hogwarts," she whispered. "This isn't how I pictured myself. I don't mean with you," she added hurriedly. "I mean, I didn't picture myself living like a housewife, making meals and wiping noises and renting Disney movies and worrying about money and rocking babies to sleep. I always wanted a career. Always. A wonderful one. I wanted to be the best, not only at Hogwarts, but at my primary school too. Back then I thought I might grow up to be a judge, or a doctor, or a university professor. I never fantasized about having a wedding or what I would name my future children. It's funny, isn't it? How life can... change? How our priorities can change?"

"Our experiences shape us," he agreed, holding her close. "Do you regret... me?"

"Not at all! You're..." She felt her cheeks go crimson. "You're the sort of man I... My mother always said she thought... She used to think..." Hermione blew a tuft of hair out of her face prepared to let the thought die away, but Severus would not let it go that easily.

"What did your mother think?"

"When I wrote her that I thought I was having feelings for Ron, and then later, when I dated Viktor, she was surprised. She said she always pictured me with someone more... intellectual. Someone with whom I could have an intelligent argument. She and my father loved to argue. Not to fight, but to... debate. Verbal sparring, my father called it. My mother wanted that for me too. But Ron... our fights were fights, and not intelligent ones. Stupid ones. Frustrating ones. Ending in tears. And even when we were seeking Horcruxes on the run, he and I never had any deep conversations, never any discussions about things important to me, like books or house-elf rights or..."

"Your relationship existed on the surface," said Severus. "I understand. As did mine with Charity. We kept the conversation largely generalized and stuck in the present."

"Yes, exactly. Once we were married, he wanted me to be like his mother. To cook and clean and have a bunch of babies and raise them all while he went to work, and I just couldn't see that for my future."

"Good thing, too. With all due respect, you're much better at brewing potions and hexing me during arguments than you are at cooking and cleaning," teased Severus. Hermione smiled. "Did your second husband expect you to mother him, too?"

"Not exactly. Not at first, I mean. He was romantic. Old-fashioned. He liked theatre, especially Romeo & Juliet, that was his favorite, but there was something... unequal... about us. Almost like he... fetishized me. Put me on a pedestal. Because I had been in the silly Golden Trio, I suppose, and maybe because even at the Ministry they teased me about being 'the brightest witch of my age.' Then, once we had Helena, he became just like Ron, content to have this cute little woman at home raising his baby and making his meals, not like a real person."

"You think he loved the idea of you more than he loved you?"

"Yes," whispered Hermione. The potion had been sufficiently stirred, so she set down her silver ladle and placed her hands over his, which were still resting on her lower belly, and relaxed against him. "You're not like either of them, though. You... you know me. I'm not even sure I know me, but I feel like... like you know me... and my mother... I think... I think she'd rather like you."

"I think I'd rather like her," said Severus. "From what you've told me."

Hermione smiled again, but it was a sad sort of smile, as she couldn't help seeing her parents on the day they were released from St. Mungo's, the day she was told there was no hope in reversing the memory charm she'd done to them. They'd bid her a confused goodbye and hurried away, losing all recollection of their hospital stay by the time they reached the street.

"Severus?" Hermione whispered. "Do you ever miss the man you were?"

"Never." He kissed her again, this time on her shoulder. "But then, I haven't much to miss. Friendless and closed off, a spy, a recluse, a formerly bullied shameless glory seeker, child of a vile father and a resigned mother, obsessed with a woman who didn't want me, blaming a man who wasn't the reason, serving a murderous master long after I stopped being able to stomach his methods or intents, wracked with unrelenting guilt, teaching dozens of dunderheads every day – no offense – and eating meals at a head table in full view of hundreds of students sitting like subjects below us, as if we were royalty. I hated it, from my early childhood through the end of my tenure at Hogwarts, I hated all of it. Well, nearly all of it."

"What didn't you hate?"

"Hogwarts has the best Wizarding library in all of Europe. The food was always good – though I know how you feel about meals prepared by house-elves – and I was far away from my family, which all seemed like plusses. Until things went sour, I had my friendship with Lily and as a professor I used to play chess with Minerva on occasion. I had a friend in Charity even after we were no longer more, and I felt Hogwarts was the only place I had any shot at redemption. Oh, and Quidditch. I enjoyed watching Quidditch, and though I know you feel about betting the way you do about house-elves, I did like the thrill of risking a little something on each match."

"Aside from all that, though, you don't miss anything?" She smiled as she stirred the potion before her. "That's actually a longer list than I would've expected."

"I'm far happier here, with you, now." His hands moved to her hips as his lips returned to her neck and she could feel the twitch of his member coming to life against her back. "I have my potions, my health - relatively speaking - my daughter, and my girlfriend. All I need."

"Is this the life you want?" she asked, tilting her head to the side to grant him better access. "You want a much younger woman to play the part of housewife and four troubled children born of three different fathers and two different mothers and weekends spent at playgrounds or zoos and maybe, someday, a cat?"

"No cat." His right hand encircled her waist as his left traveled up to her breast. "And no housewife. I'd prefer a happy wife. And I do not think you'd be happy as a housewife, current situation aside."

"I don't think I want McGonagall's teaching job, Severus," she said, her heart fluttering at his 'happy wife' comment. Though she'd said 'housewife,' she wasn't quite thinking about the _wife_ part of it. The notion both excited and terrified her. It was only mid-October. They hadn't been playing house long enough to be thinking of such a serious future yet... right?

He flicked his tongue against her neck, running it up to her earlobe, which he then sucked into his mouth a moment before pausing to respond, his lips to her ear.

"What do you want, Hermione?"

 _"_ _I want you,"_ she nearly screamed, squirming as the combination of his hot breath on the skin his tongue had just moistened and the continued caress of her breast was arousing her to the point that she could no longer pay attention to the conversation or the contraceptive potion. This was not helped by his decision to remove his other hand from her hip, slipping it between her legs instead. She thrust her arse against him, further turned on by the feel of his hardness digging into her lower back.

"I want to work for the Ministry," she said. "I want to be Minister for... Minis... I want... Oh... yes..."

He'd slipped two fingers under the band of her knickers, her skirt hiked up around her waist, and began to work them between her damp folds. With his other hand, he began to unbutton her blouse, eager to continue massaging her breasts without fabric separating her skin from his fingers.

"Then that is what I want for you," he growled. "I want you to have the career you've dreamt of since you were at Hogwarts. It's too late for me to follow my childhood dreams, but not too late for you."

"It's... not... too late... for you..." she panted, grinding her pelvis against his hand, wondering if he'd be interested in fucking her in this position. He'd taken her in many ways since their first time together, but never from behind. He said it was because he liked to look at her, but she suspected there was more to it, and didn't press the matter as she was afraid certain positions would remind her of that blond bastard... but now, in this moment, she couldn't even recall that pureblood supremacist's name. There was only one name in her brain, one name dripping from her parted lips.

"Severus... Severus... yes... yes... there..."

"I want for you whatever you desire for yourself." His mouth was but a book's width from her ear. He opened her unbuttoned blouse and slid his left hand between the material of her bra and her right breast, toying with her tit. He paused only a moment to lick his index and middle fingers, then continued flicking them over the peaked center of her nipple. "Do you want a Ministry career, Hermione?"

"Yes... yes... I do... I... I want to be Minister for Magic..."

"You don't wish to be a housewife?" He slipped one finger aside her and then another, pumping into her, letting his confined erection rub against her arse as he lifted her to her toes.

"N-no. No. I... I... Oh, fuck, yes... harder..."

"My wanton woman..." He closed his lips over her shoulder, sucking, and then nipping with his teeth, making her cry out. He removed his other hand from her breast to wave away her cauldron, levitating it to the other side of his, before bending her over the table, the edge of which pressed against her lower belly. The smooth tabletop was cold against her chest. He removed her blouse entirely, tossing it to the floor, but left her bra. She sighed contentedly as he kissed his way from the back of her neck down her spine to the band of her skirt. Lifting his hands under it, he removed her knickers, sliding them slowly down and kicking them away.

"Are you going to take me like this?" she asked as his hands made their way back up her legs until he was again standing behind her, his throbbing cock still confined by his undershorts and trousers.

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes," she sighed. "I have only two life's goals at the moment. I want to be Minister for Magic, and I want you to fuck me against this table."

"I am afraid gratification on that first one may be considerably delayed, as it is something you must work for and not something I can give you," he said, his voice low and deep and rumbling, making goosebumps rise up on her arms and the hairs at the back of her neck stand on edge. "But to your second goal..." He unbuttoned his trouser placard. She shivered in anticipation when she heard the sound of his zipper. Placing one hand back between her legs to stimulate her with his fingers, he used the free hand to stroke himself, rather pleased by his ability to have increased his _stamina_ over the last month, but also thinking this might be a better place and position for a quick shag. He lifted her skirt, holding it at her waist, and parted her legs with his knee, positioning himself at her entrance.

"Please..." she whispered, angling herself toward him, wanting him, ready...

He rubbed the head of his hard member against her sex, not taking her, teasing her, planning to hold out until she begged, though it was requiring a remarkable amount of self-control from him, which he'd not possessed during the first few weeks of their sexual relationship.

"I want you to be happy," he said. "I want you to be happy with me..."

"I _am_ happy with you..."

"But I refuse to hold you back. If you want to go work for the Ministry..."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"No." He leaned forward to kiss her lips, though it wasn't easy since her cheek was to the tabletop, her bushy hair splayed all around. "Quite the opposite. What I want from you is no temporary fling."

"I can be with you _and_ work for the Ministry, Severus." She arched her arse against him again, silently pleading with him to fill her, to bring the pleasure she knew he was capable of providing... over and over and over again...

"Good." He kissed her cheek this time, then stretched to his full height, and, without further discussion, guided himself into her. She cried out, feeling herself stretching pleasingly, taking the entirety of him within her, bucking her hips in an attempt to get him to thrust. He placed one hand on her hip and held onto the table for leverage with the other, and fucked her hard, his stiff cock slamming repeatedly into her throbbing core, making her weak, making her heady. "I don't want a housewife, Hermione. I want you."

-0-0-0-

Delphini awoke in the hospital ward at Hogwarts. She cursed and glanced around, head pounding, trying to discern whether night had fallen or whether it was simply dark.

"Madam Pomfrey?" she called. In bustled the nurse, who immediately began fussing over her.

"What were you thinking, removing your earmuffs while working with Mandrakes?" asked the nurse, waving her wand over the girl to check her vitals. "You've been passed out for hours. Unfortunately time is the only cure. Thank Merlin they were only babies!"

"I didn't take my earmuffs off! Victoire Weasley did it! Then she broke my pot!"

"Did she?" Madam Pomfrey paused, ceasing her checking spells, looking over the girl carefully. "I was under the impression she was a friend of yours. She accompanied you here, along with another girl. You saw her remove your earmuffs and break your pot?"

"Well, no," admitted the girl. "But I know she did it! She's mean! She's a bully! She did it on purpose!"

"That's quite the accusation," said Madam Pomfrey, again bustling about. She handed Delphini a vial. "Here, drink this. It's a Pepper-Up Potion. Perhaps it was an accident. Miss Weasley seemed quite concerned about you. She even took your books back to your dormitory."

"What?" Delphini leapt from the bed, but instant dizziness made her sit back down. "She took my books? We're not in the same house?"

"I did think that was odd, but she said you'd shown her where the Slytherin common room is, so she could get your school things to one of your roommates. Nice of her to go out of her way, I reckoned."

"Yeah," muttered Delphini, wondering what the Gryffindor part-Veela was really up to. "Real nice."

"Give that potion time to work and you can head back to your dorm when the clock strikes ten. Take this note..." Madam Pomfrey handed her a scrap of parchment. "I've written a note to explain the situation should anyone wonder why you're out of bed after curfew."

"Thank you," said Delphini, but she did not wait for ten. As soon as she heard the nurse's office door click shut, she was out of there. She didn't know why that nasty girl had asked to take back her books but she doubted it was because she felt badly for having gotten her knocked out. Delphini thought about what she'd brought with her to Herbology. She didn't keep a diary anymore, thankfully, so there was no chance of accidentally sharing her secrets with the other girls... but tucked inside the front of her copy of her Herbology book, she had slipped the latest letter from her aunt Narcissa, and the start of a draft of her next one to her father, which, like the others, began "Dear Professor Snape."

"Damn fuck bloody shit piss!" Delphini let out a string of unrelated curse words, prompting one of the subjects of a nearby portrait to huff, 'Well, I never!.' Delphini did not want the other girls in her year to know that she'd asked her aunt for advice on how to deal with mean girls! And she certainly did not want them to know why she wrote weekly letters to the former Hogwarts headmaster. "If you share those letters with anybody, Victoire Weasley," the girl muttered as she took the stairs down to her common room. "I'll do worse to your face than Fenrir Greyback did to your father's."

-0-0-0-

She threw her blouse back on but did not bother with her knickers, and he zipped his fly, then they both made their way upstairs to the bedroom.

They changed into pajamas (just the bottoms for him, an oversized shirt for her) and slipped comfortably under the covers.

"I meant what I said downstairs," Severus said, pulling Hermione to him. "If you want to be the Minister for Magic someday, then I want that for you, and I'll do all I can to help ensure it happens."

Hermione looked into his eyes, his impossibly dark eyes, and felt her heart jolt, as if it were trying to escape her chest to be closer to his, which she could feel beating under her palm. Her lips parted, and she nearly... _very nearly_... told him she loved him, even though she'd previously promised herself she would save those words until they'd been dating at least six months. She closed her mouth, but could not tear her eyes away from his.

"I know," he said, understanding both her sentiment and her unwillingness to voice it. He kissed her forehead, closed his eyes, and waved his hand to douse the lights. "Me, too."

-0-0-0-

It had been a month exactly since the last bit of wand and ominous note Narcissa received. She'd saved all of them, the pieces and the parchment, and hadn't told of them to anyone, not even her husband.

She smoothed them out on the bed and read them again, wondering whether the messages had been a warning, or a cruel joke, or perhaps meant for Lucius instead.

 _Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,_ the final one began.

 _On pain of torture_

 _From those bloody hands_

 _Throw your mistempered weapons to the ground._

 _If ever you disturb our streets again_

 _Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace._

 _Once more, on pain of death, depart._

"What the bloody hell does it even mean?" She'd been talented in deciphering Ancient Runes during her upper years at Hogwarts, but she could not crack this code, as it did not seem to be code at all, but confusing nonetheless. What mistempered weapons? Their wands? And who were the enemies to peace? Former Death Eaters still at large? Disturbing the streets... could that be about the Hogsmeade brawl? Depart from where? On pain of death? Why?

"You'll go mad trying to figure it out," she muttered. She returned the parchment and wand pieces to the hollow book in which she kept them, enchanted to open only for her, and pulled out a different letter instead. She tapped the parchment twice, murmuring the incantation that would translate the language from Bulgarian to English, and smiled as she re-read the words she'd already memorized.

 _Narcissa,_

 _An elegant rose standing proud in a garden of weeds, you alone are worthy of being plucked, but to do so would be to kill you, to rob you of your beauty, a crime against nature I could no sooner commit than the murder of a unicorn. I hope you do not consider what happened between us two nights ago to have been in error, as I adore you, and would worship and revere you, and wish to make you feel as you have made me. Though I realize this is fast, and I am aware of the constricting particulars of your marriage vows, the truth is that I care not for law or propriety. I desire you as I have never before desired any woman. My beautiful rose, I need you in my arms again._

 _Yours,_

 _Viktor_

"So well spoken when not speaking," she whispered, before pressing her lips to the parchment. While his English was generally very good, especially considering that it was his third language, he was far more romantic in his native tongue both in writing and in conversation. That is why she'd quickly mastered the art of the language translation charm.

"You're too young for me," she whispered as she folded the letter and returned it to the enchanted hollow book, which she tapped closed with her wand. "Too young and handsome and you could have any woman you want. Why me?"

"Talking to yourself, my dear?"

Narcissa flinched. "I did not hear you enter, Lucius. Did you knock?"

"I did not. This is my home, remember? I am hardly required to announce myself before entering a room." He was walking slowly, deliberately, staring at her, not blinking. Her stomach twisted painfully into a knot. There was something... _not quite right_... about his appearance. He twirled the cane in which he was now keeping his new wand, the replacement for the one she'd hidden in the book, and he licked his lips as he looked down at her. She slid the book into her bedside table drawer in what she hoped was an inconspicuous way and tried to smile at him.

"What is it, darling? Did you want to go out? We could..."

He cut her off. "That's not what I want, Narcissa."

His voice was harsh and cold. He'd been harsh and cold with her before. And yet... not like this. This was... something was wrong. This was his voice, and yet... not. She shivered. She had seen this with men during the war... she'd seen it over her own breakfast table, recently, when she'd forced Delphini to pick up the chair she'd thrown back. If she was reading the signs correctly...

"Are you feeling alright, Lucius?" she asked, hoping to stall him from whatever terrible thing he intended to do. He stretched as he moved toward her and she caught a glimpse of what looked like the hilt of Bella's knife tucked into his belt. Her pulse quickened. He never wore a belt. And that knife... Bella's knife... it couldn't be. "You seem ill, love."

"I'm your love, am I?" He grabbed hold of her arm and yanked her off the bed, into a standing position, then twisted her arm behind her back and held it there as she squirmed.

"What's wrong?" She couldn't hide the panic in her voice. In all the times they'd ever fought, in all the times he'd beaten her, even the time he'd physically rearranged her face, she'd never been as terrified of him as she was in this moment. "What's wrong, Lucius?"

"A plague," he answered in a hiss. He forced her onto the bed. He removed the knife from its sheath. He placed the flat edge of it against her jugular. _"A plague on both your houses."_

-0-0-0-

Severus felt the wards around his home shift, alerting him to an approaching visitor. He glanced at the window. It was still dark. Who could be coming to call before sunrise?

He rose from the bed, threw on his dressing gown, and grabbed his wand, careful not to wake Hermione, who looked beautiful stretched out in the bed beside him. He made his way silently downstairs, still a bit slower than he would like to be moving, but at least he no longer needed a cane. His muscles ached, as the potion had worn off overnight, but the pain was not unbearable as it had been in the past. He glanced through the peephole and opened the door before his visitor could knock.

"Draco Malfoy," Severus drawled, looking over the young man, who seemed a bit worse for wear. His eyes had dark circles around them and bags underneath and he was paler than usual. In his arms he held the boy who could be Hero's twin, little Scorpius, who, at this moment, was asleep against his father's shoulder. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"My mother is in St. Mungo's."

"No doubt thanks to your father?"

"Yes, but..." Draco glanced around the front entrance uncomfortable, making no effort to enter further, not that Severus had offered. "But I don't think he was himself. He seemed... different. And he's since disappeared. But it wasn't... it wasn't like him. He's never been that way before."

"He's beaten her a great many times before," said Severus, trying not to direct any of his animosity over this toward the boy. After all, he hadn't been able to protect his own mother against his Muggle father. What hope did Draco have against the talented wizard who spawned him? "What makes you think this time was somehow different?"

"He had this." Draco reached into the pocket of his traveling cloak and pulled out a long, sharp dagger in a leather sheath.

"This was Bellatrix's knife," said Severus, removing the blade from the protective holder. He felt a surge of hatred directed toward the entirety of the Black and Malfoy families. This was the knife used to carve Mudblood into Hermione's arm.

"It's been missing for years," said Draco. "He used it tonight... he used it on my mother."

Severus cocked an eyebrow, playing cool, utilizing Occlumency to do so, even though he felt sick to his stomach. "What is her prognosis?"

"She's expected to live," Draco assured him. "But only because I interrupted and got her to the Healers quickly."

"What did he do to her, Draco?"

Draco's eyes filled with tears and Severus' attempt to keep a cold façade failed him. He wouldn't risk waking young Scorpius by awkwardly hugging his adult godson, but he did reach out and clap him on the shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting way. "Draco, what did he do?"

"Professor," said Draco in a choked voice. "There was blood everywhere."

"What did he do, Draco? What did your father do to your mother?"

"He took this knife... and he slit her throat." 

* * *

To **GUEST** who commented on **Chapter 35 - Feb 23, 2018**

The story takes place starting in 2008, a decade after the war ended.

The A/N about the London Eye was originally in there because I had originally referenced Hermione going to it before the war heated up (and before Obliviating her parents) and didn't realize until I saw your comment that I had nixed that part but kept the author's note, which didn't make sense, so it's been deleted. Thanks!

And thanks for reading and reviewing!

 **-AL**


	38. Draw Thy Breath in Pain

**CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT**

 **Draw thy breath in pain.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Severus offered Draco a firewhiskey to drink but he insisted he couldn't partake, not even when Severus amended the offer to include juice or tea.

"I don't see why you believe him to have been acting the Imperius Curse," Severus said, bitterness dripping from his voice. "This isn't the first time your father had seriously injured your mother."

"He's never pulled a knife on her before! And this was entirely without provocation. They weren't having a row that got out of hand. She was alone in her room, he entered, said something about a plague, then attacked her. I came in, hexed him, and he disapparated, I rushed to her, staunched the wound, and asked her what happened. She managed to say, 'Imperius Curse." That was all. Then, at St. Mungo's, they asked her for the memory so it could be viewed and she gave it and... and I saw it, and... and..." Draco shuddered.

"And that's what happened? He entered, said something about a plague, then slit her throat?" Thanks to being a Legilimens, despite Draco's natural abilities in the area of Occlumency, Severus could sense something was being left out.

"Not... exactly..."

"What, exactly?"

"First he... violated her... and she cried." Draco stared intently at the wall behind Severus, unable to look at him. He would never, never be able to get his mother's memory out of his head, never be able to forget the sound of her sobs, never unsee the way his father had... Draco hadn't been able to watch all of it. He'd closed his eyes. The Healer and two Aurors did not. They saw the whole thing.

"He violated her before bringing up a plague?"

"No. No, he said something about a plague before he violated her, keeping the knife's blade flush to her throat. Then he hit her once, backhanded, across the face, which isn't... That's not his usual style either. She tried to get away but he grabbed her and used the knife to... to..." Draco shook his head as if trying to dislodge the memory from it. "After... after he cut her, he said something like, 'Violet delights end... or have violet endings... or something..."

"Violent," said Severus, his mind churning. "Not violet, violent. 'Violent delights have violent ends.'"

"That's it!" said Draco, looking both confused and relieved. He shifted his sleeping son from one shoulder to the other as his arms grew tired, but turned down his godfather's offer to sit. He couldn't get comfortable as he couldn't stay long.

"The other line he spoke..." Severus began. "Would it be, 'A plague on both your houses,' perchance?"

"Yes, that's it! How did you know?"

"It's Shakespeare," said Severus. "From Shakespeare."

"What's Shakespeare?"

"Who, not what. He was a playwright."

"Oh." Clearly the name meant nothing to the younger man. "Is my mother seeing him?"

"He's been dead four hundred years."

"I don't understand, Sir."

"Nor do I, Draco..." admitted Severus. "But you may be right about the Imperius Curse. I can't imagine either of your parents ever reading Shakespeare's work, nor do I believe I've ever heard your father quote him. The playwright was a squib, famous among Muggles, but our kind generally has little interest in him."

"I can check to see if any of his works appear on the shelves in our home library."

"Do that, please," said Severus. He heard a noise upstairs, a wail, followed by gurgling and a mix of babble and real words.

"Granger's toddler?" Draco guessed in a whisper. He arched both eyebrows. "Are they living here?"

"Only part-time." Severus saw no need to elaborate, though he could tell his godson was curious. "Someone will have to tell Delphini about your mother. I can Floo to Hogwarts and..."

"That won't be necessary," interjected Draco. "I intend to head there upon leaving here."

"You intend to bring your son all the way to Hogwarts? Why go through the trouble? I could Floo..."

"No. With all due respect, Sir, I think the news should come from me. I realize that you are her... her father..." He cleared his throat. "But I've known Delphini her entire life. She's been the little sister I never had. We're family."

"Am I not also her family?" Severus leaned back against the wall. He was not sure how much longer he could remain standing without either fetching his cane or taking the pain potion. His leg muscles were waging a fiery protest to having supported him this long, and having been overworked the night before.

"You've met her only once. I respect your desire to forge a relationship with her – Mother tells me you've been writing regularly – but this is Black and Malfoy family business. I am telling you only because I believe you deserve to be informed. And because I'd like you to be prepared, should my father pay you a visit. I don't know if she's... if you've discussed it... but Granger's daughter, the little one... Her father is... She's..."

"She's your father's daughter," Severus supplied wearily. "I am aware."

Draco appeared relieved to learn that this secret was not a surprise to the man.

"My father was not himself last night, Severus. I'd bet my own life on it. Aurors are looking for him. I've asked they not kill unless absolutely necessary, no matter what he does, as I feel he is not in control of his actions. He could be anywhere now, could be headed anywhere. I believe Delphini should know that as well, though she'll be perfectly safe at school. I will inform McGonagall and her Head of House too, to err on the side of caution. You don't happen to know who Slytherin's Head of House is, do you?"

"Aurora Sinistra. The only Slytherin left on staff. I could speak with her..."

"I know you're feeling you should rush off there to play the role of decent dad," said Draco. Despite his word choice, there was no malice in his voice. "But I am asking you not to, to let me handle it. They're my parents. They've raised Delphini. I need to be the one to tell her."

Severus sighed and acquiesced, feeling Draco was probably right that it would be better for the girl to get this news from him than from her estranged father, a man she continued to address as Professor Snape, though it pained him. "Inform me as soon as you've told her. I wish to send her a letter but do not want to risk it arriving before you do."

"It won't," Draco assured him. "We are apparating to Hogsmeade now. I would've left Scorpius home, but Astoria's parents won't return from their holiday in Rome for another two days and she was too exhausted after being up all last night... She's not well. I'll send a message by Patronus as soon as I've left Hogwarts."

"I appreciate that. Draco?"

"Yes?"

"My father treated my mother as your father treats yours. Imperius Curse or not, what he does to her in inexcusable, and I do hope it is not a trait you've inherited."

"All I've inherited from my father are his eyes, his hair, and his surname." Draco kissed the soft head of the little boy in his arms. "And for what it's worth, appearance and name are the only similarities between us that my son will ever see."

-0-0-0-

She drifted in and out of consciousness.

They couldn't get the wound to stop bleeding completely, but at least the flow had slowed.

She couldn't speak, couldn't keep her eyes open.

She lifted her fingers to the gauze over her throat. Healers had to change it often.

Each time, they gave her a blood replenishing potion.

Every two hours, she needed a blood replenishing potion.

It was difficult to swallow.

There was pain in other places as well.

Her eye. The whole side of her face, really. He'd hit her.

Between her legs. Her upper inner thighs, her very womanhood. He'd... he'd hurt her there, too.

He hadn't been himself. She would bet her life on it.

But at the same time, she didn't think she could ever forgive him for this. Not ever.

How had she gone from her bed at Malfoy Manor to this one at St. Mungo's?

Draco? Had Draco discovered her? Did Draco know... he did know what his father did?

Draco should have let her die.

Lucius should have killed her.

She was not the type to cry, thus it was a surprise to feel the trickle of a tear making its way down her bruised cheek.

A Healer had taken her memory. That meant a Healer had seen...

Her degradation.

Her devastation.

Her abject humiliation.

She closed her eyes. The tears kept coming.

She wanted to fall asleep and never wake up.

-0-0-0-

Hermione stirred when Severus re-entered the room.

"You were gone a long time," she murmured, still half-asleep even though she'd had to get up to fetch the baby. "Were you taking a shower?"

"Draco was here." He removed the dressing gown, hanging it on the back of the door, and crawled back into bed. Hero was sitting on her mother's tummy, sucking her thumb, wide awake.

"You must have been quiet. I didn't heard you talking when I went to get her from the crib."

"I didn't wish to wake you." He got under the covers. She repositioned Hero so the child was sitting between them and rolled onto her side to face him.

"What's wrong?"

He quickly relayed to her all Draco had said, though he left out the lines from Romeo & Juliet. He had a nagging suspicion playing at him and did not wish to frighten her unnecessarily... not yet.

To his surprise, she seemed most shocked about the knife.

"That's not possible!"

"What do you mean?"

"How could he have had Bellatrix's knife?"

"I assume either he or Narcissa took it off her body after..."

"No! Bellatrix threw it at us when we apparated away from Malfoy Manor. It got Dobby square in the chest. He was their former house-elf, I've told you about him."

"Yes... but surely... It must have fallen before you..."

"No, Severus, no! I'm telling you, the knife was still in him when we arrived at Shell Cottage, where Bill Weasley and Fleur lived with their little girl, Victoire. Where they still live, as far as I know. That's where we buried Dobby. We didn't take the knife with us and it was never returned to her, I would bet my life on it! I don't know what happened to the knife after we broke into Gringotts... but I intend to find out."

"Yes, it _is_ a mystery," said Severus. He couldn't shake the decision that it was all connected - Lucius' disappearance, missing wand, and memory loss over the summer, the scarred man behind the tree and watching them at Hogsmeade, the attack on Narcissa, Bellatrix's long-lost knife... the lines from  Romeo & Juliet...

Hermione rubbed the slur etched into her forearm. "Severus? If it was Bellatrix's knife, Narcissa will have a scar. Forever. It can't be removed. It..."

"I know," said Severus. He took her hand and brought it to his lips as if hoping he could kiss away her pain. Hero threw herself over their joined hands, giggling, not suspecting anything was amiss.

"Fessa," she said, grinning at Severus.

"Oh, Severus! I think she's trying to say Professor!"

"Fessa!" said Hero again. She ran her fingers gently down his over-large nose. "Hi Fessa."

"Hello, Hero."

The toddler between them scooted under the covers, pulling the blanket up to her chin, and closed her eyes. "Nuh-nite, Mumma. Nuh-nite, Fessa."

"No nuh-night," said Hermione. "Breakfast. I'll go wake the others."

"Let them sleep," said Severus. "Let's have a lie-in. It's obscenely early. I'm not ready to face the day."

Hermione looked him over with concern. He was not looking at her, but at Hero. The resemblance to Scorpius Malfoy really was uncanny. She looked more like him than her half-siblings looked like each other, even though the Park children shared both parents rather than being a generation apart with a common progenitor.

"Alright, Severus?"

"No," he answered truthfully. "When my father died, I was relieved for a number of reasons, but the greatest was because I always assumed he'd kill my mother someday, and he hadn't. Or so I thought. When she killed herself, it was because of him, so in a way I suppose... but he didn't beat her to death, as I'd always assumed he would. Whether Malfoy was under the Imperius Curse last night or not is largely irrelevant as far as I'm concerned. He's been increasingly violent with Narcissa for years, decades, and despite how close we once... were... I had no idea."

"How could you?" asked Hermione. She stroked Hero's silky hair.

"Looking back, how could I not? He would grab her roughly by the arm, steer her around, lower his voice when giving her a command... Once he tugged her toward him by her hair... The same things my father did to my mother to keep her in line in public – that's what he called it, 'keeping her in line.' Another time he caught her wrist and pulled her away from a man who was flirting with her at a function for Hogwarts staff and the Board of Governors. She winced at his touch and I looked away. Another time, at a Ministry soiree hosted by the Malfoys that I had been muscled into attending, Narcissa and I were chatting, completely innocently, when Lucius re-entered the room and spotted her, no doubt after having engaged in a quick shag with a status-seeking slag. He stalked over to us. Narcissa flinched upon sight of him, and he was not gentle when he directed her away, toward the gossiping wives of prominent Ministry officials, where he said she belonged. I'd told myself she flinched because she was worried about how it might look, letting a nobody like me monopolize her time when she had dignitaries to impress, and I told myself that's why he was bothered, and that it made sense. I justified it in my mind, even though it made me uncomfortable. In retrospect, I should have known then. In 1987. Over two decades ago."

"She's chosen to remain married to him, hasn't she?"

"My mother chose to remain married to my father. Sometimes a choice isn't a choice."

"Well, then..." Hermione bit her lip. "Well, then, we'll just have to ensure, once she's recovered, that she doesn't choose to go back. We have to ensure it isn't a choice. Assuming he's not in prison." It was odd. Mere months ago, Hermione had loathed Narcissa, hated her more than anyone else, save, perhaps, for her sister and the Dark Lord himself, as she blamed her for what happened with Malfoy, and now, here she was (in bed with Severus Snape, no less!) with her mind set on figuring out a way to protect the woman. To save her.

"If they can prove Lucius was under the Imperius Curse, he won't go to prison. But if she goes back to him, she might as well be in Azkaban herself."

"It's not your fault because you didn't see it twenty years ago, Severus. Protecting the world is not your responsibility."

"Isn't it?" He laughed bitterly. "It has certainly felt that way over the years."

"It's not anymore." Longing to see him smile, she added, "It's Harry's job now. He's the Chosen One, remember? You're retired."

"That's right." The corners of his mouth turned up. He reached for the pain potion in his bedside table, ready for another dosage. He sat up to take it, exposing his left forearm. Hero, for the first time, pressed her fingers curiously to the skull and snake design.

"Boo-boo?" she asked. "Bad boo-boo?"

"Yes," he answered, thinking this a surprisingly accurate term for the mistake forever burned into his skin, as permanent as Hermione's 'Mudblood' and the slash that surely marred the skin of Narcissa's throat now. "An exceedingly bad boo-boo."

-0-0-0-

Delphini sat stone-faced, hands folded neatly in her lap, as Draco delivered the news. She hadn't gotten much sleep, having only returned to her dormitory at quarter past ten, then having lain awake for hours, staring at the ceiling above her four-poster bed thinking up a thousand ways to get revenge on Victoire Weasley.

Victoire Weasley, daughter of a part-Veela and a blood-traitor, granddaughter of her mother's murderer, a girl as ugly on the inside as she was beautiful on the outside... she'd learn it was a bad idea to mess with Delphini Druella Black.

Snape.

Delphini Druella Black Snape.

(She liked the sound of that.)

Staring at the ceiling, Delphini thought about Fiendfyre, but that seemed excessive, not to mention impossible. As much as Professor Cho-Zabini seemed to like her, she had a feeling "Can you teach me to utilize Fiendfyre so I can watch this wretched girl burn?" would not go over well.

She thought about the giant squid said to live in the lake. Could she feed the girl to it, make it look like an accident? What do giant squids eat? Might they eat part-Veela blood-traitors? Probably not, or it wouldn't be allowed to live on school grounds.

She thought about Sectrumsempra, a hex invented by her father that she'd read about in the Daily Prophet a year earlier, but thought it might make him feel disappointed in her rather than proud, and she couldn't have that. (She'd learned about the spell after a former Death Eater was arrested for having used it on a Muggle neighbor with whom he was having a property dispute. The reporter had reached out to Severus to respond, thus the caption under an old picture of him read, "When pressed for comment, notable recluse, war hero, and alleged inventor of Sectumsemptra Severus Snape would only say 'Bugger off.' Then he insisted the reporter vacate his yard unless he wished to find himself subjected to a personal demonstration of the effects of the hex.")

After the most vicious retaliations had been thoroughly fantasized about, she got practical, thinking about every joke product she'd ever seen on the shelves at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley. But how to slip the girl a Puking Pastile or Nosebleed Nougat without getting caught?

It was well after two in the morning when she finally drifted off, and just past seven when her Head of House, Professor Sinistra (Astronomy) woke her up.

Groggy, confused, and vaguely concerned, Delphini slipped on her dressing gown and slippers and followed tall, thin, dark-skinned Professor Sinistra through the common room, up the stairs, into the hall, and all the way to the Headmistress's office. Her heart gave a happy skip as they approached. Perhaps Madam Pomfrey had reported Victoire Weasley. Perhaps the girl was going to be punished!

Alas.

When they entered, it was to find Draco, grim-faced and exhausted, with Scorpius in his arms, speaking in hushed tones to Professor McGonagall.

"What's wrong? Is it Astoria?"

"Sit down, please, Delphini," said McGonagall gently. "Have a biscuit."

"It's not even breakfast time," said Delphini, pushing away the tin of Ginger Newts. "What's happened?"

In tones and terms as delicately as he could manage, sparing her most of the worst details, he explained that his mother had been admitted to St. Mungo's the night before, that she'd been attacked. He'd told McGonagall that it was by an unknown assailant, which was the story that was expected to hit the Prophet, thanks to an abundance of gold he'd donated to the head Healer's favorite charity, but unlike McGonagall, the girl knew right away who'd hurt her auntie.

"She is expected to be in recovery for two weeks at least. Once she's released to the convalescent center, I'll take you to visit her. I've already worked it out with Headmistress McGonagall. You can come home for the weekend on special permission. If you want to, I mean. She will want to see you – she's worried about you – but it's your choice."

"Yes," said Delphini quickly, both eager to escape Hogwarts (if only for a weekend) and to see her aunt, to assure herself that the woman who'd raised her would indeed make a full recovery. "Why can't I see her now?"

"No visitors allowed," said Draco. This was true, but the additional truth was that he didn't want his cousin to see her mother this way, broken, bruised, and with a neck wound that would not stop bleeding. It had been bad enough having to sit through her memory beside that Healer and those Aurors...

Draco gave Delphini an awkward one-armed hug before leaving, balancing Scorpius (now fully awake) on his opposite hip, and thanked McGonagall and Sinistra for their time and understanding. He exited.

"Do you need to talk?" asked Professor Sinistra gently. She'd not wanted the position as Head of House, it had fallen upon her when the only other Slytherin, Bathsheba Babbling (Ancient Runes) retired five years before, but she was trying to do the job well. Delphini shook her head. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me. My door is always open."

"I want to go back to my dormitory to dress," said Delphini. It was odd. She'd cried at least once literally every single day since arriving at Hogwarts, mostly over loneliness or conflicting thoughts about her mother or being teased or class-related frustration, but here she had a reason to cry, a real and true and legit reason to cry, and the tears would not come.

On the contrary, she felt numb.

-0-0-0-

The prisoner did not know where he was. For a moment, he did not know _who_ he was. Then the man, the man whose face was concealed by a mask not unlike those he'd worn himself as a Death Eater, was standing over him, pointing his wand.

"Lucius Malfoy," the man said. This jarred the prisoner's memory. His name was Lucius. Lucius Malfoy.

"You did not do what you were sent to do," said the man. "She's still alive."

"Who?" asked Lucius. The man laughed.

"Don't you remember? You slit her throat."

"Who?" Lucius tried to sit up but the pain in the back of his head was too intense. He wondered how long he'd been unconscious. "I slit someone's throat?"

"You did. She was supposed to die. But she did not. Your son rushed her to St. Mungo's."

"Draco?" Lucius felt sick to his stomach and his concussion was not the only cause of it. "What did I do?"

"I'm disappointed that you can't remember. You should. Your memory was clear. I extracted and viewed it myself and returned it to you promptly. Think about it. Concentrate."

Lucius closed his eyes. He could see himself, but from above, as if he were a ghost floating above his own body. He saw himself speaking to Narcissa, but could not hear what was said. He saw himself pulling the knife. Forcing her onto her back on the bed. Holding her down. Thrusting roughly into her, the blade to her neck.

"No..." whispered Lucius. The memory seemed clearer now. He saw himself hit her. He heard himself speak unfamiliar words. He watched, unable to react, as he slit his wife's throat. "Narcissa? My Narcissa? I did that? I killed my wife?"

"I already told you, she's not dead," said the man, his clearly annoyed voice muffled behind the mask. "Not yet."

-0-0-0-

It was a subdued day at the home on Spinner's End. Helena could sense something was bothering the adults and behaved accordingly, using what Hermione's grandparents would have called "Church voice" all morning and trying to keep her siblings calm - more so than usual. At nap time, she went upstairs to lay with Henry, bringing a book with her, without being asked.

Hermione and Severus used that time to continue their respective potions. His Veritaserum for the Ministry would be done in ten hours, so he started gathering materials for the Dragon's Nightshade-infused pain potion.

"Now mine just needs to simmer," said Hermione, cleaning up her last ingredients an hour later. "Next month, let's work on giving it some flavor, then we can bottle it and sell it to St. Mungo's. I'd be willing to bet I'm not the only witch sick of that bitter taste. What if we sprinkled in some sugar, or threw a few strawberries in the cauldron?"

"Sorry," said Severus, concentrating on his own concoction. "Sugar renders it completely useless, remember? I thought I told you that once before. Even trace amounts would..."

Hermione dropped the container in which Severus stored his fillet of a fenney snake. The glass shattered against the stone cellar floor. Severus jolted.

"What happened?"

"Sugar renders it completely useless."

"Yes," said Severus, relaxing as he turned back to his cauldron. "So we'll have to find another way to dilute the bitterness."

"Sugar renders it completely useless," Hermione repeated, staring at the wall opposite her as if in a trance. Severus set down his ladle, coming to stand in front of her.

"Hermione?"

"Sugar renders it completely useless, Severus. Sugar renders the contraceptive potion completely useless."

"Yes, we've established that." He felt a sudden burst of panic. "Why, have you been adding sugar? Could you be...?"

"No," she said weakly. She reached for the corner of the table to steady herself but it was too far away. Thankfully, though, he caught her before she could collapse to the floor.

"It tasted sweet."

"What?"

"The night we... we went on a picnic. Then we returned to my flat, I was living in a different place at the time, not far from my current one, actually. I asked him to fetch the vial for me. It took him a long time... longer than it should have... but he brought it to me. When I swallowed it, I remember thinking it tasted sweeter than usual. I chalked it up to the strawberries and champagne we'd shared earlier... I was a bit tipsy... but it _wasn't_ the champagne and it _wasn't_ the strawberries. I remember. It tasted artificially sweet, _too_ sweet... like sugar. Table sugar, cubed sugar, white sugar. Sugar, which..."

"Renders it useless," Severus finished with her. "You're talking about Reginald?"

She nodded. Her cinnamon brown eyes met his. She looked scared and sick and strangely haunted.

"He did it on purpose," she said. "I'd always wondered... I mean, I even told Ginny I thought he might have... somehow... but I had no proof... and he seemed so surprised when I said I was pregnant. Surprised and happy. I was relieved when he seemed happy."

"He was happy to learn he was to be a father?"

"He was happy. Happy, because he did it on purpose. He did it on purpose, Severus!" Betrayal and fury took over for the hurt and fear etched across her face. "That bloody bastard put sugar in it, didn't he?"

"Could be," murmured Severus. The more he heard about this Reginald Park, the less he liked, which was significant considering what he'd heard early on was horrific. "You are certain it tasted sweet?"

"Yes, and only that one time. Two weeks later I missed my cycle. After I missed my second, I saw a Mediwitch and she confirmed what I'd already suspected. They went back to estimate my time of conception... But I know. I knew. It was that night, the night it tasted sweet." Now the fury and betrayal were replaced by pain, deep and devastating pain. "How could he do that to me, Severus? Why? We'd only been dating a short time. I'd been very clear about not wanting children until I was in my thirties. I told him I didn't want to rush into another serious relationship so soon after my divorce. Why would he do that? Why would he trick me into having his baby? To trap me into marriage?"

"I believe you've answered your own questions." He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, rubbing her back soothingly, struggling to conceal his own rage. Hermione had been forced into bearing children she did not ask for not once, but twice. Having done it himself once, he couldn't imagine a second go...

"How could he do that to me, Severus?" She suddenly seemed overtaken by panic, and backed away from him, backed up until she hit the edge of the table. "You wouldn't do that to me, would you?" Hermione's eyes darted toward the simmering cauldron of contraceptive potion. "You wouldn't... you wouldn't..."

"Never," he assured her, hurt she would even ask. "That Veritaserum will be done by midnight tonight. I'll take it and you can ask me again then, while I'm under the influence of the truth serum. I will tell you the same as I'm telling you now. I would never, never do that to you. Or to any woman. Not ever. Never."

She burst into tears and half-collapsed back into his arms.

"I know," she said over and over. "I know, I know you wouldn't. I know. I know you're a better man... I know you're not like... I know... I'm sorry."

"Do not apologize to me." He smoothed her hair, grappling with the overwhelming desire to tell her he loved her and the knowledge that this was absolutely _not_ the right time.

"I wish he were still alive," sobbed Hermione into Severus' chest, dampening his button-down shirt. "I wish he were still alive so I could confront him. About this. About everything."

"I know," said Severus, holding her more tightly. In his head, he added, _'You may just get your wish.'_

* * *

 **A/N:** Heavier chapter here and I have to be honest, 39 isn't fluffy either. Quite the opposite... so be prepared. :) But that's because we're heading into the home stretch, so to speak! 40 will be another verse-esque chapter, but a funnier one to break things up, then between 41-49 everything comes together: questions will be answered, secrets will be revealed, healing will begin - all that fun stuff! - leading to a happy ending epilogue in Chapter 52. Thanks for reading and reviewing and all that jazz! **-AL**


	39. Not Single Spies, but Battalions

**CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE**

 **When sorrows come, they come not in single spies, but in battalions.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Two weeks passed.

Lucius was neither seen nor heard from, even though two Aurors were assigned specifically to tracking him down and were working tirelessly to see that they achieved their goal of bringing him in alive to answer for what he'd done... or to be saved, assuming his wife was correct and he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse at the time.

Both Severus and Hermione, whenever outside her flat or his home, were in a state of 'Constant Vigilance!' reminiscent of Mad-Eye Moody's Auror attitude. They never let the children travel out of their reach, not even at the Muggle playground near Spinner's End. The second weekend after it happened, Hermione did not take the children back to London, and she'd also given up on her 'two nights apart per week' decree, at least for now. It seemed safer that way. Plus... she liked it, feeling like a family with Severus. Falling asleep beside him every night, making breakfast together, sitting in the garden watching the children play, reading through Delphini's letters (which she continued to decipher for him, though he was learning to better translate the language of Pre-Teen Girl). She liked it... but it scared her to admit how much.

They kept in touch with Draco, who had returned to Malfoy Manor with his wife and son (though the elves were instructed to inform him immediately if his father entered even the grounds).

Draco informed Severus and Hermione that by Halloween his mother hoped to have a private room in the convalescent center where Severus had spent five years, and by Christmas she expected to be home. This was longer than the recovery time she'd initially been promised, but as it was difficult keeping her wound from re-opening (it was deeper than the letters in Hermione's arm) Healers wished to err on the side of caution.

Narcissa was healing a little more with each day... she'd even resumed writing to Viktor, who'd been in a panic when he'd seen in the Prophet that she'd been attacked and was frustrated when hospital staff would not allow him to see her, even though she said it was alright.

At school, Delphini had yet to get revenge on Victoire for the Mandrake incident. Upon learning about her aunt's near-fatal attack, getting back at that vile girl for her rotten prank was no longer at the top of Delphini's To-Do list. She threw herself into her classes instead, pulling away from Charlotte and Piper, who only seemed to desire friendship with her to learn more about the Dark Lord anyway. She finally started to get the hang of Transfiguration and continued to excel at Defense, Potions, and Charms, earning more points from Professor Flitwick per class than anyone else in her year.

Severus taught Henry the rules of Quidditch, which they played together in the garden, though Hermione did not allow her son to fly too high, as it made her nervous.

Helena continued to read quietly to herself, pausing only to ask her mother what certain words were or what they meant. They found a library not far from the home in which Lily had grown up and took out several picture books and easy readers for the children, since Severus couldn't very well tell them the story of King Lear before bed every night.

Everything was going well, it seemed.

Too well, perhaps.

The calm before the storm.

-0-0-0-

On Thursday night, Severus and Hermione put the children to bed at the usual time and retired to his bedroom, which he was starting to think of as 'theirs.' They chatted a short time before falling asleep, as it had been a long day. Around four in the morning, Hermione awoke from a confusing but not unpleasant dream, stretched, and cuddled closer to Severus, throwing her leg over his.

"Mm..." he moaned, half-asleep himself, having woken up a short time before, also thanks to a dream (though he'd already forgotten it). Her thigh had brushed against his groin, coming into contact with his semi-stiff member, which hardened further as a result of her touch. Curiously, tentatively, she did it again.

"Are you awake?" she whispered.

"Not entirely," he said. "But you can keep doing that."

"Doing what?" she asked, a hint of naughtiness in her voice. She rubbed her thigh against his groin again. "Doing this?"

"Mm-hm."

"You like this?"

"I like this."

"What if I...?" She slipped her hand under the blankets, over his pajamas bottoms, taking his length in her fingers and stroking him through the fabric. "Do this?"

"Yes..." he moaned. "Do that."

"What else should I do?" She increased the speed of her strokes, snuggling up even closer. "What do you want?"

"Suck me..." he groaned, eyes still closed. "Suck me until I cum."

"What's in it for me?"

"The satisfaction that comes from knowing you've given so fully of yourself to another." He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, lifted her hand, and repositioned it so she was in direct contact with his shaft rather than on the outside of his pajamas. She ran her fingertips lightly over his flesh, bringing them further and further down, until she took his balls in her hand.

"Suck them too," he begged as he released his erection from the confines of his clothing. He ran his hand up and down his cock while she continued to tentatively play with his testicles, which she'd never paid much interest to before.

"You want me to put them in my _mouth?"_ she asked, hoping she didn't sound too incredulous. Or juvenile. "Is that a... a thing people do?"

"Some people," he answered, working his fingers through her hair, gently urging her head down toward his crotch. "But you don't have to."

Considering this, she flicked her tongue over his head, eliciting an aroused hiss from him, then drew it down the underside of his shaft. She took his tip in her mouth, moving up and down, then resumed tracing her tongue down his length. Hesitantly, she licked him... _there_.

"You don't have to," he assured her, but mentally he was begging her to, though the rational part of his mind was screaming at him to be careful, to tread lightly... this was the act that had prompted him to tell Narcissa he loved her, which he later took back, much to her extreme disappointment. Of course, that night he'd been drunk... oh, fuck...

Hermione answered not with words, but action. She drew one into her mouth and sucked... _not too hard_... while her hands caressed his arse. He continued to stroke himself, teeth clenched, eyes half-closed, his free hand tangled in her hair, which was tickling his legs and lower belly. The Dragon's Nightshade-infused potion was wearing off but not so much that this hurt. Rather all of his senses were heightened, his skin was tingling, her tongue on him felt like an ice bath on a hot day, almost painfully refreshing. As she moved from one to the other, repeating the treatment, he writhed and bucked and struggle to remain in control. When she paused to breath, he jerked her up to him more roughly than he usually would and kissed her hard on closed lips, ceasing his own hand motions. He was about to ask to her lay back so he could return the favor, but she was already down there again, taking his length into her hot mouth, licking and sucking and stroking and twisting.

"Fuck... fuck... fuck... yes!" He grabbed her by the hair again, this time stopping her, as he knew if she continued he would surely spill his seed far before he was ready.

Come here," he said. She crawled up beside him, not sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn't what he did – he flipped her so they were laying with their heads toward opposite ends of the bed, then moved her body over his, urging her down with his hands on her hips until his tongue and lips were on her sex. She continued to fellatiate him, wondering if this, too, was a sex act frequently engaged in by other people that she had somehow missed out on despite two marriages. She found that she liked it, liked it so much it brought her quick satisfaction, and just as she was certain he too was again on the precipice, he pushed her off of him, sat up cross-legged, removed her sleep shirt, and pulled her into his lap.

He didn't position himself inside her, though. Not yet. Rather they kissed and caressed and held each other and exchanged words of affection and terms of endearment. He played with her nipples and massaged her breasts, as he liked to do, but mostly he ran his hands up and down her back, settled him on her hips, and let her chest rest against his, as the rise and fall caused by her breathing synchronized with his own. She could feel his heart beating against hers.

"Beautiful and brilliant," he said, holding her tighter, his arms wrapped protectively around her waist. "I do not understand why you want me."

"Because you're beautiful and brilliant," she replied without missing a beat. "You're perfect for me. Even my mother would say so."

"Please refrain from bringing up your mother during sex." He pressed his lips to her neck, jutted out his tongue, and tasted the salt of the sweat on her skin. "Though I do not know her, I can't help but feel like a letch when considering the fact that she and I are nearly the same age."

"We aren't actually having sex yet. Besides, you're not the same age. My mother has a good six years on you." Hermione kissed the corner of his lips. "And my father has fifteen on her, so it isn't as if she'd disapprove of our age difference."

"It's a relief knowing they would only disapprove of me in other ways," he joked dryly, holding her close, wishing he didn't believe what he'd said to be true.

You've brought me happiness, Severus Snape. You respect me and treat me well and you're kind to my children. I care about you. I'm content with you. That's all that would matter to my parents."

Their mouths connected and for several minutes they were lost in the sensation of lips on lips, tongue against tongue, expressing their mutual desire without words. When they finally parted, both were struggling to catch their breath. Her chest heaved, his heart raced, and they felt connected as if by... magic. Neither had ever felt quite like this before, not together, and certainly not with anyone else.

"Countless times in my life I've wanted to die," confessed Severus, his nearly black eyes meeting her bright brown ones. "But every day with you, I feel as though I'm reborn, and I'm grateful to be alive."

"That might be the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Don't cry. I've told you before, I prefer it if women cry _after_ sex with me, _not_ during."

"Actually, you told me women _typically_ cry _after_ rather than _during_ , not that you _prefer_ it to be so."

"Insufferable know-it-all." His mouth met hers as she moaned into his. Neither was quite aware it was happening, neither made the cognitive decision to advance to the next step, but soon enough he was inside her and she was riding him and then she was on her back with him on top, and again they were exchanging words of affection and terms of endearment... over and over and over...

"I thought I was through with men," she whispered. "Through with romance, through looking for lo... through with that part of my life. I'd resigned myself to it... to loneliness... perhaps meaningless sex... nothing more... and then you..."

"Me too... I was alone for such a dreadfully long time... I was willing to _pay_ a woman just to _talk_ to me, though I'd never pay for sex - beneath my dignity - but I was alone... I was certain no one would ever feel for me as I felt for... for _her_... No. As I _thought_ I felt for her. I know now. I see... that was obsession. Not love. This is... this is real." He found it difficult to look at her in this moment, exposed as he felt. He didn't do this - he didn't let people in - he didn't admit to his insecurities or forge emotional connections... he was losing himself... and he liked it.

"Yes... Yes, Severus." She drew him into another kiss, wanting his upper body flush against hers, not wanting even a whisper of space between them. "This is real."

"Stay here," he moaned into her ear as he rocked his hips against hers, relishing the pleasure of being inside her, knowing he was close to release but not wanting the moment to end. "Stay with me. Move in with me. Give up your flat. You don't need it. The children are happy here. I'm happy with you here."

"Severus," she said, digging her nails into his shoulders, her legs wrapped securely around his waist. Despite the elation of a second ago, she suddenly felt panicked. "Severus, not yet, we can't."

"You can... you can, Hermione, you can..." _Harder... harder... faster... he was close... so close..._ "I need you. I need you always. I need you with me."

"I... I don't know..." Fuck, it felt good. His fingers moved between their bodies, over her clit, bringing her closer and closer to a second orgasm. His other hand was on her thigh, digging into her flesh. She liked it. "I want to wait..."

"I want forever. I want forever with you," he murmured, going half-blind and lightheaded thanks to his impending climax. "Live with me, marry me... Let me keep you... I can't imagine a future without you..."

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep control, trying not to lose herself in this moment, even though, fuck, he felt _good_. She arched against him, writhed against him, desperate for her own release, but fighting to keep it at bay, because she was afraid it would steal her cognizance, that it would make her agree to something she would have to take back. "I... I don't know..."

"Mine," he murmured into her thick hair. "Be mine, Hermione Granger, only mine. I... I... I lo... Oh...Yes..." Unable to hold off any longer, he exploded into her, filling her, claiming her in a way she wasn't sure she wanted, not again, not now, perhaps not ever. His ejaculation was complete and the moment had been powerful, leaving him weak, exhausted, satiated. He collapsed on top of her, content to feel her hot, sweaty skin under his. She kissed him.

"You didn't finish," he whispered as he rolled off her a moment later. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I did earlier, remember?" She leaned across the bed to kiss him a second time. He closed his eyes, ready to sleep.

But she could not sleep.

First, it was because she realized with a panicked jolt that she hadn't taken the contraceptive potion before they'd become intimate. Thankfully it could also be taken after, as the window of time in which it needed to be consumed worked in either direction, but being abundantly careful and terrified of having another child, she preferred to do it first, lest she fall asleep and wake up pregnant.

Once she'd downed it and placed the empty vial back in the bedside table drawer, she replayed all they'd said to each other during this love-making session... it was a lot. Too much. And every time she closed her eyes, determined to drift off, she heard him in her head again... "Marry me... stay with me... Mine... let me keep you..."

She gingerly extracted herself from the bed, threw on his dressing gown, and made her way into the loo for a shower, trying to let the warm water relax her.

"I don't know how to love you," she whispered, her words drowned out by the pounding of the water on the floor of the tub. "I don't think I can."

-0-0-0-

"Why can't he visit me?" pouted Narcissa. She was propped up in bed as a mediwitch named Siobhan fussed about, checking her vitals and fluffing her pillow. In another week (she hoped) she would be moving to the convalescent home. "You let my son see me."

"Your son is next-of-kin, Mrs. Malfoy. Your son is a blood relative. Your son is not a famous former Quidditch player with questionable intentions," said the mediwitch.

"His intentions are not _questionable_."

"I saw that last letter he sent you!" Siobhan wiggled her eyebrows. "If anyone I've shown interest in ever owled me a letter like that..."

"You shouldn't have seen it."

"I told you we had to check all of your incoming mail! We are being overly cautious considering your circumstances, as requested by your son."

"I didn't think you'd be able to translate it." Narcissa folded her arms across her chest, looking very much like a petulant child (and not for the first time).

"Luckily for you, I am well-versed in a variety of translation charms, otherwise it may have ended up in the hands of someone less likely to keep your secret. Now, let's remove these bandages and see what awaits us, shall we?" The mediwitch was, as usual, smiling, despite receiving Narcissa's scowl in return.

"How can you be so excessively perky?" asked Narcissa.

"How can you be so excessively bitchy?" asked Siobhan.

Narcissa cocked an eyebrow, shooting the young mediwitch a look that could kill a lesser woman. "Your bedside manor needs work, Siobhan."

"You ought to be nicer to me, Mrs. Malfoy. I change your dressing, read your mail, check your food, fluff your pillows, control your room temperature... I could make your life miserable if I wanted to."

"You _are_ making it miserable."

"Because I won't bend hospital protocol to allow your lover to visit you in a closed ward? Trust me, you'll be seeing him soon enough. You are recovering remarkably well, and quickly! You only need four blood replenishing potions a day, down from one every two hours, and you're talking so well, sleeping through the night, and walking short distances, and eating solid foods..."

"Talking, sleeping, walking, and eating solid foods," mused Narcissa. "Great, my abilities are about on par with those of my grandson. Shall I practice my ABCs next?"

"Always so snarky, Mrs. Malfoy." Siobhan chuckled, bustling about, readying herself to remove the gauze. Though most of her coworkers hated having to enter this room, hated having to deal with either the woman or her meddlesome, ever-present son, Siobhan found she genuinely liked Narcissa Malfoy. The woman was smart, sarcastic, determined to get what she wanted... undeniably attractive... if Siobhan were able to be perfectly candid with anyone about it, she'd have to admit she wouldn't mind being in Viktor Krum's place... doing to the pureblood witch any _one_ of the _several_ dirty things Krum referenced in his latest letter...

"This may be a good time to tell you, I'm an exceptional Legilimens," said Narcissa, as Siobhan gently applied Essence of Murtlap to the jagged red scar. Siobhan's eyes widened. Her cheeks went pink. Her hand halted.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, unable to bring her green eyes to meet Narcissa's blue ones.

"It's alright," said Narcissa, finally smiling, and urging the mediwitch to continue the Murtlap application. "I'll take it as a compliment."

-0-0-0-

"Do you plan to keep me prisoner here indefinitely?" Lucius asked the masked man. "Eventually, someone will come looking for me."

 _"Everyone_ is looking for you," said the man. "You're on the Ministry's Most Wanted. Former Death Eater, slit the throat of his own wife in a fit of rage, nearly killing her after brutally raping her in their own home, just one floor below the bedroom of their innocent, sleeping grandson..."

"But you made me do that!" shouted Lucius. "I couldn't have... I wouldn't! I've... I've been rough with Narcissa. Sometimes more rough than necessary. I admit that. But I would never... I would never... I wouldn't rape her! I'd never have to! She's my wife! She's available to me whenever I desire... Not to mention, there are scores of other women I could take to bed if she were unwilling! I do not force myself on witches!"

"Don't you?" asked the man, fury welling inside him.

"As for slitting her throat," Lucius continued, "Surely no one I know believes I did that of my own accord!"

"Your son does," the man lied. "He renounced you publicly. He called for you to spend the rest of your days rotting away in Azkaban. Which you will... but not yet. I'm not through with you yet. You did not complete your task. All is lost unless you complete your task."

"Why?" asked Lucius. His clothes were filthy and torn, his eyes were red-rimmed and circle-lined, his face gaunt. He was barely being given enough food to survive. He'd been bound and shackled for weeks, with only a small basin in which to relieve himself and no water for washing. He did not know how much longer he could take this. "Why are you doing this to my family? What did we ever do to you?"

"What indeed," said the man, tsking. "You still don't recognize me?"

-0-0-0-

Over breakfast Friday morning, Hermione read the front page of the Prophet, as usual.

"Bloody hell!" she snapped, tossing it down on the table. Severus was at the stove, making eggs the Muggle way, with Henry standing beside him on a chair, 'helping.'

"What's wrong?" asked Severus. Henry giggled over his mother's use of a naughty word but did not copy it.

"Padma Patil. She got my job at the Muggle Law Enforcement office after I left. She's just been promoted. She's working directly under the Minister now. That could've been my promotion."

"What's a promotion?" asked Helena, who'd been entertaining Hero by making her stuffed animals talk to each other.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione said bitterly. "I'm not getting one."

"I told you, if you want to return to the Ministry..." began Severus, but Hermione cut him off.

"I know what you told me. You don't have to bloody tell me again."

Severus was taken aback. While they'd argued (and not always for sport) on multiple occasions, she'd never taken that tone with him before. His face clouded over. He turned back to the stove and to Henry.

After breakfast they went to the market. The returned to his home, put away the food, and checked on their respective potions. This was followed by a short trip to the playground, at which they ate a lunch picnic Hermione had packed earlier.

They stood side by side, pushing Henry on a big swing and Hero in a baby swing, while Helena kicked a pink football with a small, pudgy Muggle girl she'd just met and already considered her best friend.

"I felt her kick once," said Severus.

"Excuse me?" Hermione had not been paying much attention. Her eyes were fixed on Helena, but her mind was elsewhere.

"Delphini, before she was born. Weren't you listening? It was after a meeting with the Dark Lord at Malfoy Manor. At approximately five months gestation Bellatrix began to show, thus she was required to arrive before the rest of us and leave after, wearing flowing robes, always sitting, in order to keep her condition from being obvious. When there were only four of us left, Lucius, Bellatrix, the Dark Lord, and myself, she asked if I wanted to feel the baby move. I said no. She grabbed my hand anyway and placed it on her expanded belly. I felt a jab against my palm and pulled away. 'She's kicking,' Bellatrix said. I asked her why I should care. She told me to go fuck myself and stalked out of the room."

"Interesting," said Hermione, still distracted. Henry giggled, having overheard the f-word.

"Perhaps she knew. Bellatrix, I mean. Narcissa said she suspected as much from her diary. Perhaps that's why she wanted me to... to... She was adamant about being the girl's only parent, about raising her as a Black, in loving, loyal service to the Dark Lord, but if she'd only told me..."

"Mm-hm," said Hermione, still distracted.

"I missed everything. I barely felt her kick. I didn't see her as a newborn or hold her as a baby or watch her first steps or hear her first words. I didn't carry her on my shoulders, help her learn to read, or teach her to tie her trainers. I didn't even see her off on her first day of school. I missed everything. And though I can attempt to forge a relationship with her now, to be a decent father, I can never get those years back, those milestones. How can she ever forgive me?"

"Huh?" asked Hermione, still distracted. "Milestones, I'm listening. What was the question?"

"Never mind." Severus scowled. He concentrated on pushing Henry as she pushed Hero and they did not speak again until it was time to leave the playground.

-0-0-0-

Delphini hugged her father's latest letter to her chest and inhaled. It smelled as she remembered him smelling, when he put his arms around her on the couch to comfort her the day they met. Of peppermint and old books. She loved smells. Her auntie always smelled good, too. She wore a light lavender perfume every day, dabbed on her wrists and a little on her neck. Delphini wished she could remember what her mother smelled liked. Had she liked peppermint? Did she wear perfume? She could ask, of course. She could ask Auntie Narcissa or Professor Snape, see if either of them recalled... but it wasn't the same. It wouldn't be the same as remembering it herself.

-0-0-0-

In the late afternoon, while Henry and Hero napped and Helena read, Hermione went to pull weeds in the garden. Severus followed her outside.

"So," he said calmly, standing over her. "Care to tell me what's bothering you?"

"Nothing is bothering me."

"You're bothered by Miss Patil's promotion."

"She chose career over family," said Hermione, tugging at a dead root harder than necessary, spraying dirt in the air as it came loose. "She deserves that promotion."

"You could return to..."

"Why bother? I gave it up. I gave up everything. Might as well stay here, get married, have another baby or two... let you make up the milestones you missed... let you keep me..."

"Keep you?"

"I could be your kept woman."

"You don't want to be my kept woman," he reminded her. "Nor do I want you to be. And I did not..." He shifted uncomfortably. "I did not open up to you about my regrets over Delphini's infancy and childhood to hint that I want a child.." He added with a touch of sarcasm, "Though I'm touched to learn you were listening."

"I don't want to be a kept woman," she said, wrapping her slim fingers around another dead root. "But you want to keep me, so you may as well keep me, right?"

"Where shall I keep you, then? In a jar? I'm not sure I have one tall enough. Could you transfigure yourself into something smaller? A chipmunk, perhaps?"

"Don't try to distract me with clever jokes."

"I wasn't aware I was being clever. Or joking."

"You need me, don't you?" Hermione glared at the plant in front of her. Sighing, Severus sat on the stone bench and leaned back, regarding her carefully.

"Not sure I need you at the moment," he said. "Not like this."

"Oh, so you don't like me like this?" She stood up, throwing a dead chunk of weeds to the ground. "You only like me when I'm happy Hermione, horny Hermione, humerous Hermione, harmonius Hermione? But hagridden Hermione? Headstrong Hermione? Hotheaded Hermione? Humorless Hermione?"

"Hysterical Hermione," he added dryly. "Hypersensitive Hermione, haughty Hermione, haphazard Hermione, hiccupping Hermione, hippity-hoppity Hermione..."

"If you're trying to be cute, you're failing."

"I've never been cute a day in my life, Ms. Granger. When I came of age, my own mother assured me I wasn't even cute on the day I was born. Sickly, she said. Too small. Bluish. I had _this_ nose," He tapped his, "But on the tiny, delicate face of a newborn."

"Stop trying to make me laugh when I want to be angry!"

"Angry?" he asked. "Surely you mean hostile? Hostile Hermione? Angry doesn't fit the pattern."

"Fuck your pattern!"

"Hermione!" He stood to face her, took hold of her biceps, and held her in place. "I have a feeling this outburst isn't entirely due to Ms. Patil's promotion. What's wrong? What do you want? You want what she has? You want a career?"

"I... I don't know what I want, Severus," she said, staring at his chest, unable to meet his eye.

"You want to be Minister for Magic," he said. "Remember?"

"I know that. I mean... I don't know what I want... for us."

"For... us?"

"I think I need... space. I think we should... we should stop seeing each other. Not forever. Just... for now. For awhile."

"You're breaking it off with me?" His voice sounded slightly strangled. The very sound of it made her heart constrict painfully in her chest.

"Not forever!" she insisted. "It's just that... I need... I need space."

He released her, backing away. His face went blank as he employed Occlumency to keep her from seeing how hurt he was.

"You need space," he said woodenly.

"Yes. I'm sorry, Severus. It's just, my mind is all a jumble, and we've really moved awfully fast, and I can't help wondering..."

"You need space," he said. "It's understandable. We've been moving fast. You need to... to sort out what you want."

"Severus, please, you're upset..."

"Not upset," he said. "Saddened. Subdued. Stung. Sorrowful. Stoic. Shambolic, emotionally speaking. But not upset."

"Severus..."

"Have all the space you need, Hermione. I'm going out. Whether you're still here when I return is up to you."

"Severus, let's talk about this."

"I'm going out," he repeated. He headed toward the back door. She followed him into the house, through the sitting room, to the front door. He did not stop for his wizards robe, Muggle coat, or traveling cloak.

"Severus!"

"We can talk later," he said, not looking at her, as he stalked down the pathway leading her on the front step. "After you've had your space."

"I'm sorry!" she called. She closed the door. She leaned against it. She closed her eyes.

Then, she dissolved into tears.

Heartbroken Hermione.

-0-0-0-

Delphini sat in the Great Hall, picking at the crust of a meat pie and sipping tea, at dinner on Friday evening. She was writing a letter to her father. She usually sent them on Wednesdays, but this had been a busy week and she'd fallen behind.

She asked him the same thing she'd asked in her last letter to Draco: "When can I see my auntie?" It had been two weeks. Over two weeks. She was growing impatient.

She nearly dipped her quill into her tea instead of her ink and laughed at herself.

"That would've been vile," she said aloud.

"Everything about you is vile," said a familiar, unwelcome voice from behind her. "Your tea may as well match the rest of you."

"Go away, Weasel," said Delphini, not bothering to turn around. Victoire poked her shoulder with the end of her wand.

"Why, Lestrange?" She and the other Gryffindor girls had recently nicknamed Delphini that after her mother's husband, who famously (thanks to the Prophet) had _not_ fathered her. "Don't fancy the pleasure of my company?"

"Why should I?" asked Delphini, dipping her quill in her ink to continue her letter. "I thought the only people who fancied your company were boys looking to get their hands up your jumper."

"Who you writing to, Lestrange?" asked Melody Wood, younger sister of Matilda, and one of Victoire's best friends. She snatched the letter right out from under Delphini's quill.

"Hey! Give that back!" Delphini grabbed for it, but Melody handed it to her sister, who towered over them, and could easily keep it just out of Delphini's reach.

"Read it out loud!" said Victoire, giggling cruelly. "Is she writing to a real person or an imaginary friend?"

"Dear Professor Snape," read Matilda. The three girls erupted into guffaws. "You're writing to Professor Snape?"

"Isn't this rich?" squealed Victoire. "Let me guess: 'Dear Professor Snape. I am positively dismal in Potions. Please Owl me some talent so I can stop riding the coattails of my psychotic mother...'"

"Do not speak of my mother!" said Delphini, going crimson from both anger and embarrassment.

"Do you even remember your mummy?" asked Victoire. "If not, maybe my grandmother can tell you what _she_ remembers..."

"Shush, shush!" said Matilda. "Listen!" She read from the letter. "'The other first year girls aren't nice to me. Not the ones in Slytherin and not the Gryffindors either. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs ignore me, which suits me well enough, and sometimes the Slytherins care enough to quiz me about the Dark Lord, but those Gryffindors are positively vile!" Matilda hooted at this, as the did the other girls. She went on reading. "'I think they're jealous. That's what Auntie says anyway. She says I'm much cleverer than they are, much better in nearly every subject, plus I'm of good breeding and a descendant of the Sacred 28, and they cannot handle that so they act mean. Do you think Auntie is right? I do. I think those girls need each other to feel complete but I'm fine on my own. I pity them, really...' Too good for friends, eh, Lestrange?" Matilda laughed so hard she started to wheeze.

"The words of a true loser!" cackled Victoire, half doubled-over.

"Wookit me!" said Melody in a baby voice. "I'm so cool evwybuddy hates me!"

The trio of girls laughed until there were tears forming in their eyes.

"Why are you pouring your heart out to Professor Snape anyway?" asked Victoire, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye. "My parents used to know that greasy weirdo. They were in the Order of the Phoenix with him... but unlike him, they weren't Death Eaters too."

"He was spying for Dumbledore!" shouted Delphini. "He was very brave!"

"He was playing both sides so he could come out on top no matter who won," said Matilda. "That's what my father says. He's no hero, despite what Harry Potter wants us to think. He was a great big creepy bat and everyone hated him... on both sides! That's why he's a recluse now. He knows no one wants to see his ugly face."

"That's not true!" Delphini tried again, in vain, to snatch the letter back.

"Keep reading!" ordered Victoire.

"'Are you still seeing Hermione Granger?' Wait!" Matilda lowered the letter to narrow her eyes discerningly at Delphini. "He's seeing Hermione Granger?"

"Not a chance," said Victoire. "She used to be married to my uncle. She would never stoop so low as to date _Snape!_ Lestrange is delusional. Like her mum. Keep reading!"

"'I want to accept your invitation over Christmas but I'm worried. What if she does not like me? I read about what my mother did to her...' Invitation?"

"He's inviting you home over Christmas?" asked Victoire. "Why? Are you looking to join the new Ministry resistance? Staring a Daughters of Death Eaters club?"

"Yeah!" said Matilda. "Going to spend your holiday sitting around with a bunch of other murderers who ought to be in Azkaban talking about how nice it was when You-Know-Who ruled the world... before he got taken down by a trio of teenagers?"

"Why else would he want you around?" asked Victoire. "No one here does!"

"Delphini and Sna-ape, sitting in a tree," Melody sang. Delphini shoved her.

"Keep reading!" urged Victoire, jabbing Matilda's arm. "What else does she say?"

"It's mine! Give it back!"

"Look, Matilda, Lestrange wants it back!" Melody giggled. "Should we give it to her?"

"We bloody well won't!" exclaimed Victoire. "Keep reading, Matilda!"

"Please, stop," whispered Delphini, feeling defeated. Other kids had gathered now, creating a circle around them, a circle of cruel Gryffindors and curious Slytherins and a smattering of Ravenclaws and even two passing Hufflepuffs. Matilda raised her voice so all could hear.

"'Is Auntie getting better? Is her throat healing? Has Uncle turned up? I don't understand why he hurts her. I don't understand how he can say he love her and she can say she loves him but he hurts her like that and she lets him. It's like what you told me about my mum and the Dark Lord. I don't understand that either. I'm trying to but I can't. How could she be so in love with him?' Was your mummy in love with the Dark Lord, Lestrange?"

"Aww," cooed Victoire. "Lestrange's mummy was in love with You-Know-Who! Tell us, Lestrange... why didn't she ever become Mrs. You-Know-Who? And why don't we get to call you by your proper name... Delphini You-Know-Who? I mean, it's good you didn't inherit his nose, but he could've at least given you his name!"

At this, Melody and Matilda Wood positively howled. Several other students laughed too, including fellow Slytherins Piper and Charlotte. Delphini's face was so warm with humiliation she wouldn't be surprised to learn it was literally glowing. Where were the professors? Hadn't any of them noticed?

"Delphini You-Know-Who!" squealed Matilda. "That's much better than calling her Lestrange! From now on, you're Delphini You-Know-Who!"

"You're lucky my mother isn't here right now," said Delphini, drawing her wand, wishing she could disappear. "My mother wouldn't let you get away with talking about me like that, or with laughing at the Dark Lord. Lord Voldemort was the greatest, most talented, most feared, and most powerful wizard ever to live, and my mother, Bellatrix Black Lestrange, was his most faithful and loyal and _capable_ follower..."

"It's not _luck_ your mummy isn't here right now, Delphini You-Know-Who," said Victoire, grinning devilishly. "It wasn't _luck_ that saw my grandmother best her in a duel right here in this very room! It was _ability_. My grandmother saw your mum for what she was, a mad, arrogant monster, far more confident than she was _capable,_ and so my gram stepped in and sent her to her death, which was better than that murderous twit deserved. She should've been kissed by a Dementor and sent back to Azkaban to rot, like she was after the first war."

"Stop talking about my mother!" Delphini pointed her want at Victoire, who only laughed again, clearly not afraid.

"Whoa!" Matilda lowered the letter, showing it to her younger sister. "Are you reading what I'm reading?"

"'It brings me great comfort to know you're my father and he's not...' Wait, what?" Melody grabbed the letter from her sister. "Professor Snape is your _father_?"

There was a collective gasp from many in the crowd, several of whom turned to each other to digest and share this news in hushed tones.

"What?" Victoire took the letter from them, read the line Matilda pointed to with the tip of her wand, and turned back to Delphini, eyes wide. "So you're really _not_ the daughter of You-Know-Who then? You're the daughter of Severus Snape? Bellatrix Lestrange and Severus Snape?"

"That's right," replied Delphini puffing up, tossing her hair in a haughty way reminiscent of her mother. "She was my mother and he's my father. My father was a war hero! Even Harry Potter says so."

"Wow. Snape must've been desperate, to have shagged your mum!" Matilda grabbed the letter, crumpled it, and tossed it to the floor. "I've seen Bellatrix Lestrange's prison picture, the Wanted one. It was just in the Prophet two weeks ago. She was hideous!"

"She was beautiful!" Tears stung Delphini's eyes. She was no longer able to hold them off. Her wand hand shook.

"Maybe before Azkaban," said Victoire. "But everyone's seen that Azkaban picture. We _all_ know. She was skinny and dirty with broken teeth and frazzled hair and mad eyes... But then, looking at your father, it's not like he had a lot of other options, I'm guessing. Your mum was probably the only woman willing to do _you know what_ with him."

"She was a slag," said Matilda. "Didn't you read that article? He probably _paid her_ for it."

"No, she was too _nasty_ ," said Victoire. _"She_ probably paid _him_."

"Stop talking about my mother!" Delphini's eyes burned as hot tears escaped and made their way down her purpling cheeks. Where were the professors?! "My mother was the Dark Lord's most talented and valuable and beautiful and faithful foll..."

"Know what my grandmother said before she got her with the Killing Curse?" asked Victoire, her voice low and serious now. "She stepped in front of my aunt Ginny and said, "Not my daughter, you bitch!' My gram cared enough about her daughter to kill for her, to risk being killed. Did you mum care about you? She left you home _alone_ to go fight, didn't she? No one even knew you existed. Guess she wasn't worried about leaving you an orphan."

"My mother _loved_ me," Delphini insisted, her voice shaking as violently as her wrist.

"'Not my daughter, you bitch,'" Victoire repeated. "Are you just like her, Lestrange? Do you think you'll grow up to be just like her? Do you think you'll meet the same sticky end?"

"Just. Stop. Talking." Delphini's head was pounding. She was literally seeing red, seeing the room masked under a red tint. Her whole upper body trembled. She was in the verge of losing control.

"Your father was a _greasy traitor_ and your mother was a _psychotic slag_. Which are you?" Victoire smirked. "Bitch."

Delphini was frozen and yet she was on fire. The tingling, prickling, singeing heat spread through her body. She half expected sparks for fly out through her fingertips. She stared at the girls for a long moment until Victoire laughed and, flanked by her friends, turned to go. The crowd parted to let them through. The whispers continued, the giggles here and there. Victoire tossed her waist-length perfect white-blonde Veela hair and peered back over her shoulder, to smirk triumphantly at Delphini one last time.

Delphini's wand hand steadied. She glared at the girls, consumed by a level of hatred she'd never felt before.

They only made it three steps before Delphini's voice rang out over the Great Hall, her wand still pointed at the girl's retreating back.

"CRUCIO!"

* * *

 **A/N:** As promised (or warned, depending on how you view it) this chapter is all drama, which is why the quote for it - "When sorrows come, they come not in single spies, but in battalions" both fits and is where the name of the fic comes from. Please don't hate me! Sometimes it all has to fall apart before it can be properly put back together. (It's also the longest chapter in the whole fic.) Thanks for reading and reviewing! **-AL**


	40. Sins Remembered

**A/N:**

Just a reminder, every 10th chapter is written in a sparse verse-esque form and sections alternate between Severus' POV and Hermione's POV.

This chapter flashes back to when they each lost their virginity. Hermione was nearly nineteen (with Ron) and Severus was fifteen (with Lily) which technically means this chapter features minors having sex, but it's not graphic in the least - no citrus.

I'm posting this a day early because I'm eager to move on to the next chapter, 41, which is the continuation of the action in 39. It will be posted late on Monday night (EST) or on Tuesday. Thanks!

 **-AL**

* * *

 **CHAPTER FORTY**

 **Sins remembered.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

"You mean it, Lily?"

His heart leapt. She couldn't be serious... could she?

"I want to know what it's like, Sev."

"You... do?"

"I want to understand what they're all talking about."

"You... do?"

"I want to make sure my first time is with someone I care about, not some silly boy I think I love then get my heart broken by later."

"You... do?"

"Yes! We're going to end up losing it someday anyway. At least I know _you_ won't break my heart."

-0-0-0-

"Ron, are you really ready?"

Her stomach fluttered. She wasn't quite ready... was she?

"Yes, I'm bloody ready! And Mum won't be back for hours!"

"I don't know, Ron."

"She's school shopping with Ginny!"

"I don't know, Ron."

"We'll be done before they've even left Diagon Alley!"

"I don't know, Ron."

"Come on, you know you _want_ to! Besides, we know we're going to lose it to each other someday, right? Might as well be today!"

-0-0-0-

"Don't you think... the first time... it should be..." Severus stammered.

"Don't I think it should be with someone I love?"

"Right, that."

"Yes. And it will be. With you."

His stomach gave a jolt, his heart raced, his blood pounded in his ears.

"With... me? You do?"

"Yes, Sev, silly! You're my best friend! Of course I love you."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," she insisted, smiling at him.

She took his hand. His palm was sweaty.

"Sev? I love you

As my friend."

-0-0-0-

"I'm glad we've waited," Hermione said.

"Me too," said Ron. "I'm glad my first time will be... you know... with you."

"You are?"

"Of course! Mum always said it should be with someone you love."

Hermione smiled. She took his hand. His palm was sweaty.

"I love you, too," she said. "I'm glad we're getting married."

"Me too," he said. "Before I took out the ring

I was terrified

You wouldn't say yes!"

-0-0-0-

Lily's bedroom was a mix of Muggle and magic.

Gryffindor pennant between posters for Queen and the Carpenters.

Moving photographs in frames on the desk. Black and white.

Still photographs in frames on the bookshelf. In color.

Her parents were out.

Father at work, Mum with Petunia.

He'd never even kissed her before -

(He'd never kissed anyone before)

But he'd thought about it. Countless times...

He'd thought about it.

-0-0-0-

Hermione had given sex a lot of thought. Careful thought.

She'd read three very different

(VERY different)

Books about it.

The first, a gift from her mother, the summer after Third Year.

"Hermione, love, you're getting older," her mum said.

"Oh?" said Hermione.

"You're noticing boys..."

"Mum!" Hermione went red-faced. She did not want to have

The 'noticing boys'

Conversation. Not with her mother. Not now. And certainly not

Within earshot

Of her father!

"Don't mind him," said her mum, following her gaze from the kitchen table

To the TV room

Where her dad was engrossed in a political segment.

"I'm giving you this book. Your assignment is to read it –

Cover to cover! –

And report back to me once you have, to discuss."

It was, to Hermione's surprise, full of useful information.

It explained periods and PMS, which she already knew too well...

Plus the particulars of procreation:

Ovulation, fertilization,

Eggs and sperm...

Gestation, the entire reproductive cycle...

Even a chapter on childbirth

(Which nearly put her off the idea of motherhood forever).

It explained the particulars in scientific terms:

Penis, testicles, shaft, head...

Vagina, vulva, clitoris, hymen...

Stimulation, arousal, fornication, ejaculation...

Complete with diagrams labeling the parts and their functions.

Once she had finished reading

And returned the book,

Her mum asked,

"Any questions about sex, Hermione?"

"Just one," said the fourteen-year-old. "Outside of wanting to have a baby...

Why in the world would anybody do it?"

-0-0-0-

Lily had been kissed before. She'd had

Two

Different boyfriends.

The first had held her hand. Kissed her cheek.

Sat beside her in Charms. Passed her notes.

Shared his desserts, even though she could have her own.

But it went no farther than that.

The second, just last year...

He'd been older. A Gryffindor. Sixth year.

(They'd just finished fourth.)

He wanted more than she was willing to give.

He wanted nights in the Astronomy tower...

Panting and pawing at each other...

His hands up her jumper...

Her hands down his pants.

She wasn't ready, she said.

He understood, he said.

Then,

He dumped her.

(She cried on Sev's shoulder.)

Severus had no such experience. No ex-girlfriends,

Nobody trying to get under his jumper...

Or down his trousers...

Or anywhere else.

No one even holding his hand or kissing his cheek.

He had an imagination, though.

He'd done it all to Lily in his mind...

And, in his mind, it always ended with

"I love you, Sev."

-0-0-0-

The second book was a cheap tawdry romance novel.

She'd stolen it off her mother's shelf shortly before leaving for

Hogwarts

Second year.

It had a blond haired, strong-jawed hero on the cover

With his ruffled shirt torn open, muscles budging,

And a curvy violet-eyed heroine staring wantonly up at him

On a cliff, overlooking a stormy sea.

She hadn't been able to bring herself to read it then.

(She'd only wanted it because the hero reminded her a little

Of Gilderoy Lockhart

Her brave and famous future professor,

Author of countless fascinating tales,

And boaster of perfect straight white teeth her parents would admire.)

She held onto it – hidden – for years.

Picked it up again the summer between Fourth Year and Fifth

After Viktor. Before Ron.

She read the novel voraciously,

Taking in every word

Living the harrowing, romantic tale right alongside the heroine

Wondering if any man would ever 'take' her like that. Would ever

Want to.

The first book taught her the

Logistics

Of sex.

The second taught her the

Reasons

For it.

-0-0-0-

"We're going into fifth year, Sev."

(She slid her hands up his shirt)

"I know, Lily."

"We'll both be sixteen in January."

(She pulled his shirt off)

"I know, Lily."

"We're not little kids anymore."

(She traced her fingertips over his protruding ribs)

"I know, Lily."

"I think I'm ready. Are you?"

-0-0-0-

The third book

She purchased

In secret, from a Muggle bookshop.

After the war ended. When she and Ron were...

New.

They'd done... this and that.

Kissing. Cuddling. Some over-the-clothes touching.

Which always ended with frustration for both

As neither was ready for the next step, emotionally

But their hormonal teenaged bodies hadn't seemed to have gotten that

Memo.

This book was unapologetically feminist.

Not just in description, but in title. It was called

Unapologetically Feminist:

A Modern Woman's Guide to 

Getting Noticed, Getting Laid,

& Getting Off.

She read it cover to cover.

Twice.

And hoped it would help when it was...

Time.

-0-0-0-

He had no concept of foreplay. He barely

Just barely

Knew about sex.

"This goes here, that goes there,"

His father had basically said.

This was further articulated by rude hand gestures.

"If you fuck it up..."

Severus shuddered to think of it.

"If you fuck it up... you get a baby."

He didn't want a baby.

"If you fuck it up... you're stuck with the woman forever."

He glanced at Lily. She was braiding her hair

Humming to herself

In her summer dress, legs tan, waiting for

Him

To make the next move.

She was lovely,

Basked in the warm glow of the summer sun streaming through the window.

He didn't want to fuck it up...

But he wouldn't mind being 'stuck' with her.

-0-0-0-

Hermione researched contraception for witches and wizards.

Condoms were not popular in their world

For a variety of reasons, it seemed.

Not least of all was that the men insisted it dulled the fun.

She figured this was

Bollocks.

But since the contraceptive potion was considered more effective

(Could never break, would never fail)

It made sense to procure it.

It was a Wednesday. They had been engaged for two weeks.

"Ron? If you'd like to... to be intimate... sometime soon..."

"Yes?" His freckled face lit up. He hadn't

Pressured her,

But he'd been waiting

For this

Since May.

"Ron? I bought a dosage of contraceptive potion...

And I think I'm ready."

-0-0-0-

"This is a condom." Lily handed him a shiny square.

"How do I use it?" he asked, looking it over. Would it magically

Show him

How to make this good for her?

Because older Slytherin boys had joked

About the importance of being 'good' for their girlfriends

And how girls who didn't 'get it good'

Didn't want to 'get it' again.

"You wear it," she said. He was confused.

"Wear it where?"

She giggled, a melodic tinkle of laughter, and though his cheeks burned

He laughed too.

"Here, I'll open it." She tore the package, removed a round piece of latex.

"Now what?"

"You put it on your..." Her eyes darted down to his groin

(Which, thankfully, was still protected by his clothing)

"Erm... What does it do?"

"Sev!" she giggled again. She was as nervous as he was. "It makes sure... you know."

(He did not know.)

"It makes sure I won't get pregnant!"

"Oh," he said. "Good, then."

If there existed something to wear that would keep a couple from getting pregnant,

Why hadn't his father told him about _that_?

-0-0-0-

It wasn't easy to find a good time.

They were living together

At the Burrow

Surrounded by people.

She was sharing a room with Ginny.

Ron was by himself, since Harry

Decided to return

Alone

To Grimmauld Place.

They had to wait until the Burrow was vacant.

They couldn't take all day.

Hence Ron was eager to get started.

His shirt was off. Her shirt was off. His trousers next. Then her skirt.

When he was down to his undershorts and she was in a bra and knickers

They started to kiss, to touch each other.

It felt... nice.

Awkward –

Too much pressure -

Too much frenzy -

Too many questions -

But nice.

-0-0-0-

Their first kiss was...

Nice.

Soft. She was wearing something shimmery on her lips.

It tasted of vanilla.

She parted her lips. Slipped her tongue into his mouth.

What now? Was he supposed to lick it? Suck on it? Do the same with his own?

His father hadn't explained anything about snogging.

Not that he wanted tips from his vile, abusive father.

But it would've been a plus not to feel like a complete

Dunderhead

In this moment.

Should he close his eyes?

-0-0-0-

They knelt opposite each other on the bed.

He squeezed her arse. She kissed his shoulder.

They started to speed up, to get heated.

He crawled on top. She parted her legs...

They rolled to the right... to the left...

They rolled right off the bed.

"Ouch!" shouted Ron.

He'd smacked the back of his head.

"That hurt!"

She fussed over him. He insisted he'd live.

They climbed back on the bed...

They'd be more careful this time.

-0-0-0-

He felt exposed and small without his shirt.

He had bruises on his back that he didn't want her to see –

Bruises from being beaten by his father.

He was also impossibly pale and lacked muscular definition,

Unlike James Potter and Sirius Black, who

Relished

Going around Hogwarts without their jumpers

With the first few buttons of their shirts undone

And their sleeves rolled up

Which made those silly Gryffindor bints giggle.

Lily traced her fingers down the center of his chest

(Was she having second thoughts?)

To the waistband of his Muggle trousers.

He was not even slightly aroused.

Just terrified and vaguely ill. He was going to

Embarrass

Himself. "You can kiss me, Sev," she whispered.

He nodded, but did not make a move.

"It's not for real," she whispered. "We're just... experimenting...

So you don't have to worry if there's no magic."

But there was magic. Being around her was its own magic.

For him.

-0-0-0-

Her knickers came off. Her bra came off. His shorts came off.

"This is good, right?" he asked, rubbing between her legs.

Hermione shrugged.

"I suppose."

"Show me how, then," Ron said, clearly annoyed.

She placed her hand over his

And showed him how

Even though she'd already shown him before.

-0-0-0-

He took his time untying the back of her dress's halter top. It fell

Forward to her waist. She was not wearing a bra.

His heart stopped. He couldn't look at her full-on...

At first.

"You can touch me," she whispered. She took one of his hands...

Placed it on her chest...

Encouraged him to caress her breast.

And his

Manhood

Came to life.

-0-0-0-

Next, she touched him.

Stroked him.

Used her mouth on him.

He loved it all.

He was not particular in that regard.

Finally, she felt she was sufficiently aroused...

At least, if the books she'd read were to be believed.

He grunted as he pushed through her barrier

(The technical term popped into her head: hymen)

And paused once fully inside.

"This is good, right?" he asked

"It's... good..." she said.

But honestly, it wasn't.

It wasn't bad either.

It just sort of... was.

He began to move. She tried to move with him.

Both the Feminism book and the romance novel

Espoused the positives of

Breathing together

And moving as one.

So she tried...

But the more turned on he got,

The more confident in his... er...

 _Abilities..._

The more erratic his thrusts. She couldn't find the

Rhythm.

It was

As if

They were playing two completely different songs.

It was

Like band camp

At age nine -

All over again.

-0-0-0-

Once they were naked, he rolled on the condom.

With her help.

It felt... weird.

Then he crawled on top of her.

They kissed again... awkwardly.

(No tongues this time)

And he kind of felt her up a bit more...

Ran his hands over her chest... gave one side a squeeze...

Kissed her neck.

Didn't seem to do anything for her, but it was a moment

He would commit to memory

Forever.

It took three tries before it was... in.

And about four full thrusts before it was... done.

Afterward, they lay side by side, staring at the ceiling.

Her confused, him conflicted.

-0-0-0-

He moaned her name and tried to utilize dirty talk.

Except every ten seconds he was asking,

"It's good, right?"

"Yes, Ron."

She tried not to roll her eyes at the ceiling

(For all the wrong reasons).

"Yes, it's good."

She'd been worried they wouldn't have enough

Time

To properly lose their virginity

Before Mrs. Weasley and Ginny got home.

She needn't have worried.

He only lasted three minutes.

Which, as far as Hermione was concerned...

Was about two and a half minutes too long.

-0-0-0-

"So..." said Lily. "That was sex?"

"I suppose," he answered.

"I don't see why everyone makes such a big deal about it." She was smiling.

He tried to smile back. "Yeah..."

"I mean, it only takes two minutes and doesn't feel that great. No offense."

"Five minutes," he said, his cheeks going red. "I think it was more like five."

"Two minutes, five minutes... I don't know, Sev. If it weren't for the purpose

Of making babies

And all that,

I don't see why anyone would bother. Right?"

"Right," he replied. "Yes, right. Why bother?"

But, truth be told...

He wouldn't have minded giving it another go.

(Practice makes perfect.)

-0-0-0-

"That was the best hour of my entire life,"

Said Ron.

"Hour?" asked

Hermione. She resisted the urge

To recommend

He take McGonagall's advice from the first day of class

And Transfigure himself into a pocket watch.

"Yeah! Amazing, wasn't it?" asked Ron.

He looked so

Earnest

And sweet

and happy.

"Oh, I'm amazed," she replied.

He suddenly looked...

Nervous.

"Be honest, Hermione...

It was good. Right?"

-0-0-0-

"It wasn't quite what I expected," Severus admitted.

-0-0-0-

"It wasn't quite what I'd expected," Hermione said gently.

-0-0-0-

"But we did it and it's over and now we don't have to worry about it!" said Lily.

-0-0-0-

"But we did it and it's over now and it was good, right?" asked Ron.

-0-0-0-

His father hadn't done an adequate job of preparing him for this.

And what if she never wanted to do it again?

How would he ever get better?

What if he never got better?

What if he never got 'it' again?

What if... what if... what if...?

-0-0-0-

Those books hadn't done an adequate job of preparing her for this.

What if she never wanted to do it again?

What if Ron never got better?

What if she never wanted 'it' again?

What if... what if... what if...?

-0-0-0-

In his fantasies, sex always included a lot more... noise.

A lot more, "Yes, Sev!" and "More, Sev!" and "I love you, Sev!"

Instead, he got, "It only takes two minutes and doesn't feel that great."

That night, alone, in bed, he stared at his ceiling.

What he needed, he decided, was a book.

He needed to find a book about sex.

A book that taught him how to do it and do it well.

He was highly adept at learning things from books.

Next time, it would be better.

Next time, she'd scream his name and beg for more

And tell him she loved him.

-0-0-0-

It wasn't entirely Ron's fault, she decided.

'A satisfactory sexual partnership takes two,' that Feminism book said.

She would need to go back to the books

All three of them, perhaps

And re-read, figure out what she missed.

Learn how to breathe _with_ him, move _with_ him.

Not roll of the damn bed during foreplay...

That night, in bed, alone, she stared at the ceiling.

In four months, they would be married.

Her goal, therefore, was now established:

Perfect Wedding Night Sex.

She had four months to make it happen.

It was worth the effort.

He loved her.

And she loved him.

-0-0-0-

Two minutes, five minutes.

-0-0-0-

About two and a half minutes too long.

-0-0-0-

"There's no magic."

-0-0-0-

"It's good, right?"

-0-0-0-

"I know you won't break my heart."

-0-0-0-

"Come on, you know you want to!"

-0-0-0-

At least his first time was with a girl that he loved.

At least her first time was with the man that she loved.

Severus loved Lily.

Hermione loved Ron.

-0-0-0-

The first time should be with someone you love.

And it was.

And it was.

And it wasn't.

Be all my sins remembered.


	41. The Steep and Thorny Way

**CHAPTER FORTY-ONE**

 **The steep and thorny way to Heaven...**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Severus was hurt.

This hurt like being dumped by Lily.

This hurt like the realization he would never be able to take back what he'd said.

This hurt like knowing Lily would never forgive him.

No amount of Dragon's Nightshade could take this pain away.

-0-0-0-

The children were driving her mad.

Hero asked, "Where Fessa?"

Henry asked, "When we go back?"

Helena asked, "Why was he gone when we left?"

Hermione didn't have the answers.

-0-0-0-

He could either do as he'd done the last time she left and drink himself into a stupor while hoping she'd return or he could find a productive way to pass the time.

Difficult as it was, he put down the Firewhiskey and opted for the latter.

That's why, early Friday evening, just before everyone left work for the day, he delivered the Veritaserum to the Ministry. Upon collecting his payment, he decided to head to Hogwarts.

He intended to pay Minerva McGonagall a little surprise visit. To ask a few questions about this Reginald Park fellow, a man who'd claimed to have gone to Hogwarts, but of whom Severus had absolutely no recollection.

-0-0-0-

She wanted to climb into bed with a warm blanket, a good book, and a large bottle of cheap wine. She wanted to curl up and cry the way she had after she'd discovered Ron's affair with Lavender, when she decided their marriage was over.

But she couldn't do that.

Because she was a mother now.

So instead of wallowing in sorrow, she did the laundry, went to the market, made the bed, tidied the sitting room and kitchen, and mopped the bathroom floor.

Then she fixed Helena's hair, fixed one of Henry's trucks, fixed Hero a sippy cup of watered-down juice, contemplated what to fix for dinner, and wondered how she was going to fix this problem with Severus.

-0-0-0-

"Severus!" Minerva rose from the chair behind her desk to greet him. He stuck out his hand and shook hers. "You've arrived more quickly than I'd thought you would. Thank you for coming."

"I... what?"

"You received my message by Patronus?"

"No. I dropped in because..."

"They want to kick me out of school." A tiny voice alerted him to a third presence in the Headmistress's office. He stepped around Minerva to find Delphini, looking somehow smaller than she had the last time he saw her, curled up on a high-backed powder blue chair that once belonged to Dumbledore. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her nose was pink. She'd clearly been crying.

"Delphini?"

"I'm being expelled."

"She says she's your daughter," Minerva said gently, urging Severus to take a seat. She returned to her chair behind the desk. "Is this true?"

"It is."

Minerva nodded, hiding her surprise.

(The shock had been more difficult to hide an hour earlier, when she'd said she would have to contact Narcissa for an emergency meeting and Delphini had begged her to inform her father instead, since her auntie was still unable to leave St. Mungo's. "I wasn't aware you have a father," Minerva had said. "His name is Severus Snape," Delphini had responded.)

"What happened?" asked Severus, putting Reginald Park out of his mind for now. Minerva again gestured to the chair and he sat reluctantly.

"At dinner in the Great Hall this evening, Miss Black used an Unforgivable Curse against one of her fellow students."

"Which one?" He looked at Delphini, his expression completely unreadable.

"Victoire Weasley," Delphini answered.

"No," said Severus, closing his eyes for a brief moment. "Which Curse?"

"The Cruciatus," she mumbled.

"Why?"

"The why is irrelevant!" Minerva insisted, flustered. "Unforgivable Curses are not permitted for any reason! A representative from the Board of Governors is en route, as is someone from the Ministry. The other student's parents are with her in the infirmary at the moment, but she will be transferred to St. Mungo's momentarily, and then I assume one or both of them will wish to speak with me."

"Why?" Severus asked again, not dropping his gaze from the face of his daughter. "The why is not irrelevant to me. I'd like the truth."

"They've been utterly _tormenting_ me all term!" A tear trickled down her cheek. "They slam into me in the halls, bump my inkwell off my desk. They got me knocked out by a Mandrake in Herbology and stole some of my textbooks. Once, Weasel – I mean, Weasley – lifted my skirt to flash my knickers at some Ravenclaw boys in the hall! I cried but they all had a laugh! Now I wear shorts underneath, see?" She hiked her uniform skirt up just enough to reveal a pair of what looked like Muggle's tight black bicycle shorts. "I had to order them by Owl because Auntie only allows skirts, dresses, and dress robes. I didn't even go to History of Magic that day. I was too humiliated."

This made the corner of Severus' eye twitch. Not only was he not keen on the idea of boys – Ravenclaw or otherwise – seeing his eleven-year-old daughter's knickers, it brought back the unfortunate memory of having unwillingly exposed his own underpants to a group of laughing students over thirty years ago. Good thing Victoire Weasley was apparently unfamiliar with Levicorpus.

"Though that's completely inappropriate, it hardly warrants use of..." Minerva began, but Delphini cut her off, directing her explanation only toward Severus.

"They bother me every day! They call me names like 'Lestrange' and 'Delphini You-Know-Who' and they say terrible things about my mother!" Delphini's voice rose in volume and pitch. "They tell _lies_ about her and make fun of how she died! And they... they say the Dark Lord is my father... and they... and they..."

"Have you reported any of this to your Head of House?" asked Minerva. "Or to any adult on staff?"

With an air of defeat, Delphini shook her head.

"Then how can we even be certain it happened?"

"She's not a liar, Minerva," said Severus, rising from the chair. Delphini's shiny, impossibly dark, heavy-lidded eyes widened. She gazed up at him. Was he going to defend her, to take up for her? Or was that too much to hope for?

"Even so, Severus," Minerva began. He cut her off.

"You should know as well as anyone what happens when students are given free rein to bully other students, Minerva."

Minerva's lips thinned to a straight line. "You're saying she's going to grow up to become a Death Eater and it's justified because she's been picked on a few times?"

"It was not _a few_ times," Delphini and Severus said in unison, though she shouted it while he said it calmly, matter-of-factly.

"I should've known something like this might happen," said Minerva, shaking her head. "When that article came out in Prophet two weeks ago..."

"What article?" asked Severus.

"The one about Bellatrix Lestrange. Didn't you read it?" (He shook his head.) "It was on her birthday. They printed an in-depth exclusive detailing how she served as You-Know-Who's right hand, tortured the Longbottoms, was suspected of killing several innocent people during the first war, her trial, and her prison term, plus her breakout, her involvement in the Ministry debacle, what she did to Ms. Granger, murdering her niece, the Final Battle, how she died... a lot of speculation about..." Her eyes swept over Delphini and Severus knew the article must have mentioned his daughter and her questionable parentage. "Rita Skeeter wrote the article, which tells you all you need to know."

"I didn't read it," said Severus softly. Over the last several weeks, especially after the brawl with Lucius, he'd taken to merely skimming the front page of the Prophet. He assumed he wasn't missing much, as most of what they reported was nonsense and drivel nowadays anyway, in an attempt to keep sales up even with little of substance to report. (Peace is good for the Wizarding world, but not for the newspaper world.) He was certain Hermione hadn't seen it either. Surely she would have said. He wondered if Narcissa had.

"It was rubbish! Rita Skeeter wrote awful things, awful! They put her picture!" Delphini sniffled, wiping her cheeks with her palms. "The one from Azkaban, the one from the Wanted poster, where's she's chained up and screaming, like she's... like she's mad or something, where her teeth are all broken. The other girls made fun of it. They called her names. They called her ugly... a... a slag... and psychotic... and a b-bitch. I know people think she was evil, and I know they believe she deserved to die, but she was my _mother_!"

"Why don't you tell us your side of what happened today," suggested Severus. "Leave nothing out."

"Go on," prodded Minerva, holding out a tin of ginger newts, a more compassionate expression on her face than the one she'd been wearing prior. Delphini accepted a biscuit but did not take a bite. "We're listening."

-0-0-0-

"I don't see why I can't have just a glass or two," whined Narcissa to her mediwitch, Siobhan, after being denied receipt of the wine Viktor owled her. "You can have it checked like you do the rest of my mail."

"This is a hospital, Mrs. Malfoy. We don't serve wine here."

"I'll serve it myself. All you need to do is give me the bottle. I don't even need a glass. I can pour it into my coffee mug."

"Afraid not."

"Is this a hospital or a bloody prison?"

Siobhan let out a puff of air, which made her long bangs flutter over her eyes. "It's a hospital, Mrs. Malfoy. A hospital, not a prison... and not a pub. No liquor here."

"I'll make it worth your while," said Narcissa, lowering her voice suggestively and leaning forward, to be closer to the mediwitch. She brushed her long manicured nails lightly over the younger woman's inner wrist. "I'll do something for you. Anything you want."

"You can't flirt you way to a bottle of wine _from your boyfriend_ with me," said Siobhan, ignoring this physical contact. "I promise, once you're released, you can drink all you wish. And if you'd like to flirt with me then..."

"Not interested," said Narcissa, dropping back against her pillows and crossing her arms very much like a pouty, petulant pre-teen. Siobhan laughed.

"It's no wonder most of my coworkers avoid coming in here. You are impossible."

-0-0-0-

Delphini had just reached the end of her story when the door to Headmistress McGonagall's office opened, admitting a purple-cheeked, ginger-haired, lanky man with a number of facial scars and tightly clenched fists, one of which held his wand.

"Bill," said Minerva, standing to greet him. "How is Victoire?"

"Where is she?" demanded Bill Weasley, ignoring the question. "Where is the girl who did this to my daughter?"

"Mr. Weasley," said Severus calmly. Bill seemed momentarily taken aback.

"Haven't seen you in some time, Snape! Are you back teaching?"

"No," Severus began, prepared to explain his presence, but Bill barreled on.

"Victoire couldn't tell us what happened. She can barely tell us the name of the girl who attacked her. She was trembling and crying and complaining of pain in her back. Crucio'ed in the back! Madam Pomfrey says she'll be fine, but she's headed to St. Mungo's with my wife now, for overnight observation." He glanced slightly to the left, and, spotting Delphini, was filled with even more rage. "This is the girl? Delphini Black?"

Despite the fact that she'd been sobbing only moments before, Delphini sat up straighter in her chair, puffed up her chest, and tossed her hair haughtily, greatly increasing her resemblance to...

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Bill spat. "You're her in miniature." He turned back to Minerva. "This is precisely why people were worried about having the girl here, Minerva! Just as we brought up to the Board, there is a certain danger when schools insist upon educating..."

"We educate every student eligible for enrollment should they decide to attend, Mr. Weasley," she said carefully. Severus felt his own blood rising.

"Her mother was that monster!" Bill shouted. "That murderous... she killed... She murdered Tonks, remember? She tortured Frank and Alice into insanity! And she tried to kill my sister! Twice!"

"That was the work of Bellatrix, not Delphini," said Minerva. Severus took several deep breaths, willing himself to remain just as calm as his former colleague. "Delphini is..."

"Delphini is the daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange! That much is not disputed. Therefore, is it any surprise she's casting Unforgivable Curses at other students?"

"Your daughter is the monster!" shouted Delphini. "She deserved it!"

"Delphini!" gasped Minerva. Severus shot the girl a warning look.

"Bad blood will out!" shouted Bill, gesturing toward the eleven-year-old. "Clearly!"

"Mr. Weasley," began Severus, in a tone that was both calm and intimidating, much like he would have used in his classroom when students were trying his patience. "I will thank you not to disparage the child's mother in front of her, and also to avoid making derogatory comments about the state of her blood."

"Why are you even here?" asked Bill. Without waiting for an answer, he added, "I'll say what I choose about her blood, as it needs to be said! You know who her mother was, and I assume you both know who her father is suspected to have been!"

"Indeed, I do know who her father is suspected to have been," said Severus, a harshness creeping into his voice that belied his purposeful stoicism. "I assure you, though, that the rumors are unfounded. Lord Voldemort was _not_ her father."

"How do you know, Snape? Would it surprise any of us if he were? We all know how obsessed her mother was with him! And the girl has clearly inherited his penchant for torturing the innocent..."

"That horrid girl is not innocent!" shouted Delphini. Severus shot her a second word of warning and this time she knew she'd better hold her tongue.

"You're saying she deserved to suffer an _Unforgivable_ Curse? You see what I mean, Minerva? It's not safe, having her here! This is precisely what the Board was afraid of! She is surrounded by defenseless students for her to threaten and victimize..."

"Have a seat, Mr. Weasley!" barked Severus, having reached the end of his patience. Surprised by the sudden tone, or perhaps subconsciously remembering his own days in Snape's potions class, Bill sank into the chair Severus had previously vacated.

"I realize she can't help who her father is," said Bill, looking suddenly exhausted, the scars on his face intermingled with the lines of age and worry. "But we need to think of the protection of the others..."

"You are right in one regard," said Severus. "She cannot help who her father is. But as I have already assured you, Lord Voldemort – formerly Tom Riddle – did not father her. Bellatrix Lestrange was indeed her mother..." He caught the girl's eye. She was chewing her lip, the same way both Black sisters did when nervous, and staring at him. "And _I_ am her father."

Bill dropped his wand.

"Y-you? Professor Snape? I don't understand."

"Have I been unclear? Delphini is _my_ daughter. My daughter and Bella's daughter. And what happened today, while an act of wrongdoing and worthy of address, was _not_ an example of what happens when a child is born with 'bad blood,' as you so maliciously put it, but an example of what happens when bullies are permitted to tease and torment an already fragile child to the point of extreme overreaction."

Delphini felt a surge of affection for the man in this moment, not only because he was claiming her and defending her, but because he had called her mother Bella, her nickname, use of which had largely been confined to having been by those she'd been closest to: Narcissa and the Dark Lord.

"What's wrong with her, then, that she's finding herself the receiver of all this alleged teasing and tormenting?" asked Bill furiously. "Eh?"

"I assure you, Mr. Weasley," Severus continued, glaring down at him just as furiously. "There is absolutely _nothing_ wrong with my daughter. You may, however, wish to question what's wrong with _yours_."

-0-0-0-

"Mummy, I miss Pofessah," said Henry, crawling up in his mother's lap for a cuddle. Dinner had been cleaned up, save for the dishes, Hero's diaper was changed and she was in her jammies, and Helena was reading on the couch.

"I know, love." She kissed her son's soft hair. "I do as well."

"Pofessah come for dinnah on Monday?"

"I don't know. We might not see Professor much for awhile. It'll just be us. You, me, Hero, and Helena. Like it used to be. That would be alright, wouldn't it, love?"

Henry pondered this a moment, then shook his head.

"No, not awwight. I want my Pofessah."

-0-0-0-

"You're saying there's something wrong with my Victoire?" Bill snatched his wand from the floor but remained sitting. "Nonsense! What nerve! She's the bloody victim here!"

Before Severus could respond, McGonagall's door opened again, and in walked Lucretia Bones, an Auror and the second chair of the school's Board of Governors (summoned in Lucius' absence) and the Minister for Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, accompanied by a rather uncomfortable looking Aurora Sinistra.

"I didn't ask you to bring back an Auror and the _Minister_ , Aurora!" exclaimed a flummoxed Minerva, who quickly got hold of herself and rose to greet them appropriately. "I trust Professor Sinistra has informed you of this afternoon's... incident?"

"Indeed," said Minister Shacklebolt. "We are aware that one student performed an Unforgivable Curse on another." Delphini stared silently up at him. They'd met before, of course, when her aunt and uncle hosted Ministry gatherings, raising money for the victims of various tragedies over the last several years, in an attempt to restore their reputations. Kingsley regarded Delphini coolly now, though, as if they'd never dined together. "We have a number of questions we need answered before we decide whether to take her into custody."

"Custody!" Minerva appeared as appalled as Severus felt.

Delphini's terrified gaze darted back and forth between the two of them. She started to cry again. Were they going to arrest her? Put her in Azkaban? Let her go mad there, surrounded by Dementors, like her mother? For how long? Forever?!

"Should the case go in front of the Wizengamot, I assure you, she will have a fair trial," said Shacklebolt. "But perhaps we can avoid letting it get that far."

"I'm sorry!" Delphini squeaked, the tears flowing harder, so much so they made her gulp and hiccup between words. "I didn't mean... (hic) mean... (hic) mean to! I was... (hic) scared... (hic) and embarrassed... (hic) and my feelings were hurt... (hic) and I... (hic) I suppose I was angry... (hic) but I'm... I'm... I'm... sorry!"

"They are not taking you into custody," Severus assured her, shooting a sharp look in the direction of Bones and Shacklebolt.

"With all due respect," said Auror Bones, "What are you doing here, Professor Snape?"

"Delphini is my daughter. She's been bullied all term by a group of girls, including the one she retaliated against. She was surrounded and frightened and she lashed out. What she did was dangerous and wrong, but I'll not let you take her anywhere regardless of what you or the Wizengamot thinks is best. Are we clear?"

"Your daughter?!" Bones was clearly as surprised as Bill Weasley had been, and though he hid it better, Severus could tell Shacklebolt was as well. Bones shook her head. "Her mother was Bellatrix Lestrange."

"I am aware," Severus replied.

"How did you manage to make a baby with Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"The usual way," he replied dismissively.

"How long were you and she... together?"

"Four months." He figured no one but else (save for Hermione and Narcissa) needed to know he and Bellatrix had 'been' together only one night during each of those four months. "For four months in 1996. It ended sometime around the incident in the Department of Mysteries."

"How can you be certain the girl is yours?" asked Shacklebolt, taking over the questioning from Bones, who had whipped out a quill to take notes.

"You mean in addition to having been there on the evening she was conceived?" Severus asked emotionlessly. "Her aunt sent away a bit of my hair along with one of Delphini's and a saved strand belonging to her mother for a paternity test, as Narcissa sought ironclad confirmation before she'd allow me to take responsibility for the girl."

"I can't imagine," said Auror Bones, sounding slightly weak. "Severus Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange."

"It's hardly unimaginable," said Severus, unable to keep from feeling a bit insulted. "It's not as if I'm a troll and she was a mermaid."

"Have you any proof of this?" asked Shacklebolt.

"Well... I can offer up old full-length photographs of her to prove she was not a mermaid, but I reckon you'll have to take my word for it that I'm not a troll."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Delphini hid a snicker behind her hand.

"I meant any proof that the girl is yours, that you had this brief..." the Minister glanced over the girl, not wanting to call what resulted in her existence a fling, even if that were the best word for it. "This brief _relationship_ with her mother?"

"A relationship with her mother," echoed Bones, still stunned. "Undercover war hero Severus Snape and devout Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange have a child... together. I don't know if I can believe it."

"Narcissa has the results of the paternity test, though if you continue to doubt, you may perform another. As for proof of my _relationship_ with her mother, you have only my word... though, I suppose, if you wanted a recreation of what I went through at my trial, you could always opt to humiliate me by extracting my most intimate memories to be viewed by the entire Wizengamot. Again."

"No, that won't be necessary," said Shacklebolt. "We will take you at your word, for now. But we still have to question the girl, to decide what should happen with her next. We cannot simply assign detention, deduct House Points, and send her back to class. It was an _Unforgivable_ Curse. Surely you realize the magnitude of such a situation, Snape? If she were a Third or Fourth year she would be relieved of her wand and summoned to appear before the Wizengamot without question. If she were in Fifth, Sixth or Seventh, we would likely be carting her off to Azkaban to await trial without a second thought. At the very least, even at this young age, we could be talking expulsion."

"Very well," said Severus. "But no matter what you rule, you will _not_ be taking her into custody, as I made clear from the start. The circumstances are extenuating and I insist you consider them when making any decisions that – don't forget – will impact her for the rest of her life. That said, should she need to be released to an adult outside of this institution, it shall be me, as her aunt is currently... incapacitated."

"She's at St. Mungo's," whispered Delphini. "She almost died. She got her throat slit."

"Sit, please," said Minerva, conjuring up four extra chairs. Severus and Aurora took the two not placed behind Kingsley and Bones.

"I hope you will not be letting this attack go unpunished, Minister, no matter the 'circumstances,'" said Bill, as Minerva levitated over a pitcher of water and glasses from a table by the window. "I realize the girl is only eleven, but my daughter is only eleven as well. My daughter and her friends deserve to feel safe at school."

"And mine did not?" asked Severus, one eyebrow raised. "Yours made sure of it."

"Minister," Bill began, but Kingsley Shacklebolt cut him off by holding up a hand.

"Rest assured, Mr. Weasley, we will listen to _all_ of the facts before making a decision regarding the girl's future."

-0-0-0-

Hermione was doing dishes the Muggle way when someone penetrated her wards and knocked at her door. Her heart skipped. Perhaps it was Severus, unable to Floo for some reason, coming to make amends. She half-wanted to tell him they needed to slow down and half-hoped he would be willing to spend the night.

She peaked out to see Harry Potter standing on her step, holding a small, wiggly boy in his arms.

Setting aside her disappointment, Hermione opened the door.

"Harry! Come in. I thought you might be... doesn't matter. What brings you? No Ron this time? I must say, your current companion is much cuter."

Harry smiled. "You remember James Sirius? He's same age as your Henry. Ron is home with his family," said Harry. "I should be too, but I told Ginny I needed to run an errand. She welcomed the quiet, I think. Between James and Albus Arthur she'd got her hands full lately."

"I know what that's like," said Hermione, locking the door behind him. "Fancy a cuppa?"

He nodded. "Thanks."

She reintroduced James Sirius to her children, who hadn't seen him in quite some time (though Helena claimed to remember him) then put a Disney movie on for the four little ones. It was the second since they returned home that afternoon, but as they'd been thoroughly missing out on telly time during their stays with Severus, she reckoned it wouldn't do them any permanent harm.

"This is called The Fox and the Hound," Helena explained to three-year-old James Sirius, who was seated on the couch between Henry and Hero. "It's my favorite, even though it's not terribly romantic."

"I want to get one of those," said Harry, pointing at the television. "The new ones aren't mussed by magic like the old ones were. But Ginny's not a fan."

"Ginny could stand to open her mind a bit more," Hermione said testily, as she set out the tea things.

"Yes, well. Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I miss you, you know. I think of you often. But I understand you being angry with me."

"Oh, Harry." Hermione sank into a chair across from him. "I'm sorry. It's my fault. I've let us grow apart. You invited for dinner and I never replied..."

"No, it's my fault. I wasn't around when you needed me, and I let what came between you and Ron come between us, too."

"Does Ginny still hate me for divorcing him?"

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead. "She doesn't hate you. She never hated you. I think she resents that you left. You were good for Ron, even if he wasn't good to you, and she felt you should've spent more time trying to fix things. Plus, our kids were supposed to be cousins, you know? Grow up together."

"They could still grow up together. We weren't cousins and we grew up together, in a sense. And she needs to get over my decision to leave him. He was cheating on me, not the other way around, remember?"

"I know. She'll come around, eventually. Especially now that Ron's a father – though, for what it's worth, she really _does_ hate Lavender... far more than she ever could you."

Hermione smiled and stood to take the whistling kettle off the stove. "That's something."

They fixed their tea and sat silently for several minutes, sipping and sort of watching the movie.

"See the news about Padma in the Prophet?" asked Harry delicately. "She got a promotion."

"I saw."

"That could have been you."

"Could have, but isn't."

"Still could be. They're looking to fill your old position, now that she's leaving. She doesn't actually take up her new post until the first of December. I know it's not easy, managing sitters and all that, but if you want it, I could put a word in..."

"I don't need you to help me get a job."

"I know, but when Professor Snape wrote that you were thinking about returning..."

"What? What do you mean? Professor Snape wrote...?"

"Didn't he tell you? Not sure when he sent the Owl but it arrived yesterday morning, early. He said you've been working for him and while your services have been invaluable, you are potentially seeking other employment. He said McGonagall offered you a position at Hogwarts but you thought you'd be happier back at the Ministry. He asked if I knew of any openings."

"He did?"

"Yeah. It was a nice letter too. I've never known him to be so... nice. He must really like you. I mean, why wouldn't he? You're great. But... he's Snape. Snape doesn't gush about just anyone, you know? He must truly think you're special."

"Oh."

Fuck, she felt stupid.

She'd panicked, accusing him of trying to keep her, to turn her into a housewife and stay-at-home mum as both Ron and Reginald were wont to do, and here he was secretly penning a letter to Harry Potter to enquire about other opportunities for her. Yes, true, he should have said something, not sent the Owl without telling her, but the thought was sweet, considerate. She owed him an explanation. She owed him an apology. She owed him a thank you.

She owed him better than an "I need space" and no proper goodbye.

But he owed her, too. He owed her the courtesy of not asking her to move in when she'd already been clear she wasn't ready, and he owed her the common sense of not using phrases like "Let me keep you," and he absolutely owed her the decency of not expressing his desire to _marry_ her, at least not until they'd been dating for... a year. Or more.

She would forgive him, though, if only he'd be willing to promise not to say such things.

She wondered if he would ever forgive her.

-0-0-0-

Several times during Delphini's questioning, Bill Weasley had to be ordered to remain silent. He was furious to hear all Victoire was accused of having done to Delphini, but not for the same reason Severus had been, as Weasley assumed her account was all lies whereas Severus knew exactly how it felt to be the target of those who get off on weakening the already weak.

Aurora was sent to gather Flitwick, Longbottom, and Vector (the other Heads of Houses), to find witnesses among their students who could corroborate the girl's story.

In the interim, Auror Bones had a few more questions.

"How is it that you, at age eleven, know the incantation and proper wand movement necessary to perform that particular Unforgivable Curse? Have you somehow studied it?" She glanced toward Severus. "Did someone teach you?"

"I've seen it," said Delphini. She stared down at her hands, which were folded in her lap, and kept her back straight, ankles crossed, not swinging her legs, just as Narcissa had taught her. She wished she's brushed her hair that morning... or that week... or washed it, even. Though her uniform wasn't too rumpled, it was only on day two of being worn, she felt rather disheveled in general.

"You've seen it? When? Where? Who performed it?"

"At home," she said. "At Malfoy Manor. My uncle... my uncle Lucius has used it on my aunt Narcissa. When he says she's being disobedient or insolent or a... or a bitch. She'll get angry and tell him to sod off or... or F himself..." Delphini's cheeks went pink over saying these words in front of two professors, her father, an Auror, and the Minister himself. "Then he'll say he needs to teach her a lesson."

"Teach her a lesson?" echoed Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Minister's expression was one of thinly veiled anger, while Auror Bones's was of shock. Professor Sinistra looked horrified, and even Bill Weasley was shaking his head in dismay. Delphini couldn't bring herself to glance at her father or McGonagall. She felt sick to her stomach. What would Uncle Lucius say when he found out she told? Surely he would be furious. At least he couldn't hurt her aunt to punish her – Narcissa was still safely tucked away in a closed ward.

"Also, sometimes... sometimes I see the Curse clearly in my dreams, when I dream about my mother. There's a man standing over her, with a black cloak that hides his face. She... she cries... And then she collapses, and she's quiet, and I try to wake her up but I can't."

Severus was certain, and the others suspected, that this was a memory of her mother and the Dark Lord, a sad reality which was not lost on any of them.

"Your uncle Lucius has used the Cruciatus Curse on your aunt as punishment for disobedience?" Auror Bones, who was still taking notes, tapped her quill against her chin. "Has he ever used it on you?"

"No. I've only... I've only been under the Imperius Curse," she answered. She added proudly, "But I'm learning to throw it off! I can manage for a few seconds at a time!"

This was news to Severus. He and Delphini made eye contact. He was then in her mind, via Legilimency, and saw Narcissa forcing the girl to pick up a chair she'd knocked over, saw her staring back with defiance not at all like the blank expressions that often presented in those under the Curse. Delphini closed her eyes momentarily and Severus felt himself being forced from her thoughts, which made him smile. His daughter was a natural Occlumens.

"Does your uncle use Unforgivable Curses to punish your aunt often? And what about on you? Does he use it on you often?" asked Auror Bones. Every adult in the room was looking upon the girl with empathetic, horrified concern.

"No," answered Delphini with an awkward shrug, torn between feeling she should tell the whole truth and wanting to protect the people who raised her. "Uncle Lucius has never used the Cruciatus on me. And with Auntie, he doesn't usually need it."

"What do you mean, 'he usually doesn't need it?'" asked Auror Bones.

"I mean... uh..." She glanced at Severus, who gave a small nod, urging her to explain. "He doesn't need his wand, mostly. When he's mad, he just hits her with his walking stick or his hands, or maybe fists. Sometimes, if she's on the floor and he's standing, he kicks her. Or pulls her hair. Or grabs her by the throat." Delphini bit her lip. "Once, over the summer, he pinned her down and... and he put himself over her, and... and he pushed up her skirt... and... and... and then I had to l-leave the room, but later I cr-crawled into bed with her and... and she'd been crying. I don't know if he used the Curse on her that time."

"Merlin's beard," murmured Minerva, bringing a hand to her mouth, articulating the revulsion felt by every adult in the room. "What sort of home has she grown up in?"

"One to which I do not intend to see her return," answered Severus.


	42. Divinity Shapes Our Ends

**CHAPTER FORTY-TWO**

 **There's a divinity that shapes our ends.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Harry and James Sirius stayed for the entire movie, long after the tea had gone cold. After awhile, the adults couldn't think of anything more to say, so Hermione put sleeping Hero in her crib and joined Harry and the other children on the couch.

The Disney classic, which was animated, followed the unlikely friendship between a fox named Tod and a hound dog called Copper. It ended on a bittersweet note. After realizing their childhood friendship could not be continued now that one was a full grown fox and the other a hunting dog, they parted ways, off to their own lives. Their childhood voices echoed a forgotten promise over the image of a forest –

 _Tod: You're my very best friend._

 _Copper: And you're mine too, Tod._

 _Tod: And we'll always be friends forever, won't we?_

 _Copper: Yeah, forever!_

Hermione, though she felt silly about it, cried. Harry, though he'd never admit it, teared up too. He bundled his son and made his way toward the door. Hermione followed, with Helena trailing behind her. Henry was already asleep.

"We're not a fox and a hound, Hermione," he whispered, as James' drowsy head flopped onto his shoulder. "We're not too different to still be friends."

"We need to do a better job of it, though," she said, stroking Helena's hair. "We shouldn't have to reintroduce our children every time we see each other."

"I promise to do better if you do," said Harry.

"Then I promise too," said Hermione.

"And maybe someday soon we'll be working on the same floor," said Harry. "We can get lunch together at least once a week. If you want to try for the job, that is."

"I'll think it over and let you know," she said.

Once he was gone, she locked the door and strengthened her protective wards, disconnected from the Floo network, checked on Hero, and tucked Henry and Helena into bed.

It had been a long, long day.

-0-0-0-

Delphini was, thankfully, _not_ being expelled.

"You may return to school after the Christmas holiday," said Minerva, once Delphini had rejoined the adults after being sent to her dorm, accompanied by Aurora Sinistra, to pack. Charlotte and Piper were also present in their shared bedroom at the time but said not a word to her as she filled her trunk. It was as if they'd never met. Delphini thanked Professor McGonagall, Auror Bones, and Minister Shacklebolt, even though part of her wished she wouldn't have to return, but she knew better than to admit this.

Once they were permitted to depart, Severus transfigured her trunk to the size of a briefcase, as small as he could manage without potentially damaging her possessions, and told Minerva he would make arrangements to pick up her owl once the bird returned from its current delivery. They took a portkey home.

"It's not Malfoy Manor," he said as she gazed wide-eyed around his small, dark, book-filled sitting room as if she hadn't just seen it six weeks before. "But it will have to do."

Delphini did not react. The fact that it wasn't Malfoy Manor was a plus, in her opinion.

"You have a lot on your mind," he mused. Immediately she closed her eyes and tried to empty her head, to keep him away from her thoughts.

"I am not utilizing Legilimency against you, child. I can tell you have a lot on your mind by the way you're chewing your lip."

"Oh!" Delphini reopened her eyes, meeting his. "I know I should be glad I'm not expelled, Sir, but..."

"But...?"

She closed her eyes again, but this time she was picturing Auror Bones taking her dead mother's curved walnut wand with its dragon heartstring core, snapping it in half, and telling her she would have to get one of her own... but not yet, since she was forbidden from doing magic until her return to school. They hadn't even let her keep the pieces. That wand had chosen her mother when her mother was her age, and at least twice Narcissa had saved it from destruction, and now it was rubbish. Rubbish she'd never see or hold every again.

"Delphini?" Severus prodded.

"I feel like I want to destroy something," said Delphini darkly, and though most wizards, even adults, might find her tone and expression cause for alarm, Severus nodded with understanding. She went on. "I want to scream and throw things and pitch a massive temper tantrum the way I did when I was little. I want to punch something. Or someone. I want to repair my mother's wand, find those girls, and make them hurt like I hurt. I want to... I want to set the world on fire. I want to... I want to... I want to be _bad."_ She glanced at him nervously. Would this admission make him rescind his offer to let her stay?

He was blank-faced as he mulled over her words. Finally, he inclined his head, ever so slightly.

"Come with me."

He led her upstairs without explanation, to the last door on the left, across from the room that had temporarily belonged to Hermione's children. He used Alohomora to unlock it. The wood creaked in protest as it was swung open for the first time since shortly after the death of his mother some twenty-five years prior.

"This dusty, decrepit, depressing bedroom belonged to my parents," Severus said, surveying it with an air of utter disdain. "My father treated my mother as your uncle treats your aunt. As the Dark Lord did your mother. With degradation, disrespect, and domestic abuse. I hate this room and all that is in it." He handed her his wand. "Reducto is your best bet for breaking objects. Bombarda creates small explosions. Confingo is similar, but results in a subsequent burst of flames. Perdereo was a favorite of your mother's, a general charm of destruction. Ventus is a blast of wind, not entirely effective, but potentially satisfying. Defodio will gouge or carve out large chunks of a strong object. And Diffindo is a severing or shredding charm; I'd recommend it for the curtains and bedclothes." With the naming of each incantation he moved his hand the way one should when holding a wand to cast it. "Well? Go on."

She looked upon him as if he'd gone mad. "Go on and what?"

"You said you wanted to destroy something. I've given you seven ways to do so. If you need more specific assistance for the hand movements I will offer my tutelage, though I'm curious to see what occurs when you rely primarily on instinct, as I get the impression you possess an exceptional amount of talent and skill. So go on. Destroy the room. All of it. Everything. Do your worst."

"But the Ministry decided I'm not allowed to do magic."

"It may have escaped your notice," he said dryly, "But no one from the Ministry is here."

She regarded him carefully, discerningly, with a touch of suspicion. Surely this had to be a trick? But when he nodded at her, a feeling of great power filled her chest, and she turned, facing a looming dark wood wardrobe against the opposite wall. She raised his wand and shouted the spell he'd said her mother preferred, "Perdereo!"

The wardrobe exploded, making a satisfying boom as it did so, sending large splinters of shattered wood in all directions.

"Bloody hell!" She looked to him for a reaction. He was... smiling. Only a hint of a smile, but there it was, the same small smile he'd worn after she forced him from her memory, after confirming she was learning to defy the Imperius Curse. She took this smile as encouragement, turned to the writing desk in the corner, and shouted the word again. "Perdereo!" She swiveled around the room, hitting whatever looked breakable. "Perdereo! Perdereo! Perdereo!"

"I'm getting bored," he said, his tone confirmation of this. He leaned casually against the wall by the door, his arms folded. "Vary your spell choice."

"Reducto! Bombarda! Confingo! Confingo! Defodio! Reducto! Ventus!"

Objects flew off shelves, some exploded, some disintegrated, and some caught fire, which he put out with a wave of his hand thanks to a wandless Aquamenti. As she continued to break and blast apart item after item, she felt both calmed and spurred on, eager to unleash all she'd been bottling up.

"This is for every time Victoire Weasley called me _Lestrange_ ," said Delphini, sending a furious Bombarda in the direction of an antique freestanding vase his father's mother had once owned, one of very few things of monetary value in the home.

"This is for every time Uncle Lucius told my auntie she's not _good enough_ for him!" Delphini said, sending Confingo in the direction of several framed photographs atop what used to be the desk.

"This is for every time anyone has ever called my mother a _slag_ , or _mad_ , or a _bitch_!" A Perdereo, which seemed to be her favorite of the new spells, flew in the direction of a massive watercolor painting of sheep on a hillside that Severus had never understood as a child, as neither of his parents claimed to like art. Or sheep.

"This is for everyone who thinks the Dark Lord is my _father!_ For everyone who thinks I have _bad blood!"_ She sliced Severus' wand through the air and, to his great surprise, sent flying across the room what appeared to be a nonverbal Reducto. Her body was shaking, but she'd kept the wand steady. Now her wand arm fell to her side. She took a deep breath, glaring across the room, as if facing off against a great enemy her father could not see.

"And this..." she said, her voice dripping with ice cold anger, "This is for my mother... this is for my _mother_ , who chose to die for the Dark Lord over living for me! My _mother_ , who let that monster matter more than her own baby! My _mother_ , who made me grow up without her, because she's _so_... _bloody_... _selfish_!" Consumed by the need to expel the rage she'd been suppressing inside herself her entire life, Delphini let the wand slip from her fingers to the floor, screamed, then threw a ball of fire borne from the palms of her hands, which shot across the room to the back wall. Severus, uttering Henry's favorite word, quickly dove for his wand and put it out, his heart racing. This was no ordinary fire. Nor, he presumed, had it been created by intentional magic. It was Fiendfyre, which precious few knew how to conjure, extinguish, or control, and they'd be discussing it later.

She was now trembling from head to toe, her hands shaking violently, tears again streaming liberally down her cheeks, her chest rising and falling much too quickly. He handed the wand back to her then placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. He waited until she made eye contact.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, shocked by her own abilities.

"Stick to the incantations I listed for you." He released her. "You are permitted to destroy the bedroom, not burn down every home on the street."

She backed away from him, as if expecting a slap to accompany this admonishment, but when no further punishment came, her breathing slowed to normal and she continued to use six of the seven spells. Her magic was performed calmly now, slowly, as she was more curious than furious.

When the furniture and possessions had been sufficiently destroyed, she turned her attention to the curtains and bedclothes, attempting Diffindo, but found this one harder to manage than the others.

"Like this." Severus placed his hand over hers and showed her the proper wand movement. He did the spell with her once, then backed away to let her try on her own. "Diffindo!" One curtain, shredded. "Diffindo!" the second in shreds. "Diffindo, Diffindo, Diffindo!" All the way to the mattress, she'd shredded the bed.

Exhausted from both her outburst and from the sheer amount of magic she'd performed tonight, she sank to the floor. He sat beside her.

She handed him his wand without being asked for it.

"Thanks Dad," she said quietly, unable to look at him, afraid he wouldn't be pleased with her use of the title. "I feel loads better."

-0-0-0-

Hermione tossed and turned so much she was afraid she'd wake the children, so she moved to the couch rather than sharing the bed. She hugged a pillow to her chest and imagined a dozen possible conversations with Severus to be had as soon as she worked up the nerve to apologize. She hadn't told Harry about their fight, but she'd told Harry about other things – how he'd learn to change sweet Hero's nappy, the connection he was forming with naughty Henry, the patient way he'd engaged in conversations with precocious Helena...

 _"_ _Hero's started calling him 'Fessa,' and Henry's behavior is markedly improved, and Helena... she caught us kissing once and asked if it was 'terribly romantic,' and the truth is, Harry, yes, it was! We'd been fighting, then dueling, then flirting, and strange as it sounds, it was all sort of terribly romantic. I can't quite put into words why I care for him or how much, and of course what Ron said about him picking on us as kids and being a greasy, sullen, obsessive man, I know all that is true, but when I look at him I typically don't see that Professor Snape. And what's stranger, when I do see shades of the man he was, I... I like it! And when we're together... please don't tell Ron or Ginny that we've been together..." (He promised.) "I can't quite explain the feeling I get, but it's like... it's like... the magic of having held my wand for the first time, and... and I get these butterflies, and I lose my head, and I say stupid things I know I shouldn't..."_

Hermione sat bolt upright on the couch.

She hadn't realized it when talking to Harry earlier, but now, in the quiet darkness of her sitting room, she was caught up in her own words: 'I lose my head, and I say stupid things I know I shouldn't...'

How many times, when they were first starting to be together intimately, but hadn't progressed to intercourse yet, had she begged him to take her? She knew she shouldn't, and he never did (though once it was a close call), but she'd get so swept up in how she felt for him emotionally and how she felt with him physically that she'd beg, actually _beg,_ for sex. And he didn't give it, because she'd told him prior that she wasn't ready. And now this, what if it was the same? He'd said he wanted to keep her, he'd nearly told her he loved her, but it wasn't over tea or while working in the garden together, it was during one of the best sex sessions they'd had thus far...

What if he hadn't meant it?

What if he'd been swept away?

And she'd completely panicked and overreacted?

She shouldn't have told him she wanted space. She should have asked him if he meant it when he said he wanted to keep her, or asked what he meant by it. Judging by the letter he'd sent Harry at the Ministry, he never intended to make her his "kept woman."

Fuck.

The last decade since the war had changed her.

She wasn't sure she liked the person she'd become.

She was full of self-doubt and worry, second guesses and inadequacies. She couldn't trust anyone, not her old friends, not either of her ex-husbands, not even herself...

Actually, she pondered, perhaps she hadn't changed as much as she'd thought. She was still Hermione Granger, Insufferable Know-it-All, Practical but Emotional Thinker, Unapologetic Bookworm, Loyal Friend... and Girl Afraid of Failure, so much so she had nightmares about poor O.W.L. results as early as third year. Back then she was afraid of being anything less than the best, afraid of doing less than her best. And though her priorities had changed, her dreams had not... nor had her fears. She still wanted to be the best. She was still eager to please. She was still terrified of failure. And she was still one to value reason, fact, history, and knowledge above all else. She needed to be reasonable. To look at the facts. To examine both her history, and his. And maybe... just maybe... she should peruse the relationship advice section of the library the next time she took the kids.

 _"_ _Severus Snape is not like Ron and he's not like Reginald," Harry had reassured her. "I can't imagine he wants a dozen kids and a wife who lives solely to care for her family. But when he joined the Death Eaters, it was because he wanted someplace to belong... Maybe he belongs with you?"_

Maybe he belonged with her. Maybe she belonged with him. Maybe... maybe they could be a family.

Maybe it was too soon to think about being a family.

Maybe it was stupid _not_ to think about it.

When had she become so indecisive? When she walked in on Ron with Lavender, she decided to leave, no second thoughts.

When Reginald forced her into that 'arrangement' with Lucius Malfoy, she decided to leave, no second thoughts.

They both deserved for her to leave.

Severus did not.

What had he done?

Nearly told her he loved her? Asked her to move in? Expressed his desire to marry her?

"Damn it, Hermione!" She got off the couch, giving up on sleep. She went into the kitchen for tea.

With the volume on the telly turned down low, she watched The Lion King whist sipping her tea, remembering how _right_ it had felt doing this with Severus and the children together only a couple of months ago. She smiled when thinking about the way Helena had shushed him, and how he'd wanted to discuss it further once the children were asleep, and how she'd ended his oratory dissertation about the similarities between the film and Hamlet by kissing him.

She'd wanted him that night. He'd wanted her. But she'd said they were moving too fast - and he'd stopped. He didn't try to pressure her to change her mind. He didn't get sulky or annoyed that she'd wanted to go no further. He simply... stopped. He listened to her. He respected her.

Who would have thought, when she was at Hogwarts, she'd someday end up with the potions master?

Once, as a sixth year, she'd had an inappropriate dream about him.

They'd had Defense Against the Dark Arts that day and he'd been his usual impossibly difficult, contemptible, sullen and snarky self. That night she'd gone to sleep worrying about her N.E.W.T.s, terrified she'd fail every single one of them, as she often dreamed about.

Her dream that night started as many did. McGonagall called her into her office (why she was still at Hogwarts in the middle of the summer, she did not know). McGonagall surveyed her carefully across the desk, disappointment in her spectacle-framed eyes.

 _"I don't know how to tell you this, Miss Granger... but you've earned Dreadfuls across the board. I've never been so let down by such a promising student."_

In this dream, however, Hermione didn't fall to her knees and beg to take the exams over, as she often did. She left the office in hysterics and ran into Professor Snape in the hall.

 _"Tears, Granger? You must have just learned your marks. Such a... pity." His voice was deep, drawling, and dripping with faux sympathy. "It's unfortunate we in the Wizarding world lack fast food establishments, as it seems you're destined to work in one."_

 _"Please, Professor Snape, tutor me, take me on as your apprentice, convince them to let me take the tests again! I'll do anything! Anything to have a future in the Wizarding world!"_

 _"Anything?" He'd cocked an eyebrow. "Follow me to the dungeons. Perhaps we can work out... an arrangement."_

The dream had devolved into utter smut from there. She'd awoken around two in the morning, drenched in sweat, an uncomfortable, embarrassing ache between her legs.

"Ew," she'd said allowed. "Me and Snape? I'd rather fail out of Hogwarts and work in Muggle fast food."

Assuming her brain had been playing a cruel trick on her that night in sixth year, she'd closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but when it would not come, she heard his deep, drawling voice in her ear again... this time simply reading off potions ingredients... and let her hand slip under her nightgown, into her knickers...

Hermione's cheeks went hot as that memory, one she thought she'd long forgotten, crept into her mind. She sipped her tea and tried to focus on the movie - Simba was singing about how he just couldn't wait to be king - and wondered if she'd ever be able to get Severus to understand how conflicted and anxious she was feeling about their growing affection, if he'd ever be able to see why falling in love completely terrified her, and if he could possibly get why words like "Let me keep you" made her heart race in all the wrong ways. Surely he could. He was an intelligent man, one with his own emotional hangups.

So why couldn't she bring herself to go to him?

-0-0-0-

That first night, Delphini slept in the bedroom that had belonged to Severus as a child.

"It's full of children's things," she noted, glancing around. "And it's so... cheery. Was this the way it looked when you were my age?"

"This is where my friend's children nap when they're visiting. Tomorrow, we will clean up my parents' bedroom, Vanish whatever we need to, and then go buy you your own things."

"You mean it'll be my room? Just for me?"

"Yes. Since it appears you shall be staying here for the next ten weeks – and, unless you would prefer not to, returning during the summer – it seems sensible to redecorate the room in a way that suits you. For tonight, will this suffice?"

She nodded. He'd given her a tour of the house earlier, which did not take long as there wasn't much to see (especially as she'd seen most of it when visiting with Narcissa) and they'd had a snack. He made no mention of the fact that she'd called him Dad, nor did he mention it when she returned to addressing him as Professor Snape, though if he were being honest he rather liked the former over the latter (even if he did not yet deserve the moniker).

For breakfast Saturday morning, she requested soft boiled eggs, toast, pepper, and vinegar, and he reacted as Draco had.

"I've just received an owl from a former colleague of mine who now lives in America." He sat across from her with his own soft boiled eggs, served with sausage, toast, and grilled tomato. "He said he was wondering whether a vinegar factory exploded somewhere in the UK because he could smell it from across the pond."

"Do you and my cousin hire the same joke writers?" she reached for the juice. "If so, you should fire them. You're about as funny as Professor Binns is lively."

He smirked. Between her dry, sarcastic wit and the greasy rat's nest that was her hair, he was already seeing more similarities between the two of them than he'd known existed twenty-four hours ago.

-0-0-0-

"So," said Siobhan casually, as she changed the gauze on Narcissa's throat. "For how long have you been cheating on your husband? Does that account for this?"

"Awfully personal question," replied Narcissa.

"Yesterday you hinted you'd trade sexual favors for a bottle of wine and now you think my question is too personal?"

"I wouldn't have actually provided any sexual favors, in my defense." Narcissa winced as Siobhan pressed lightly on the wound while waving her wand over it, a check she went through every time the bandages were changed. "I was only going to _agree_ to provide sexual favors... with absolutely no follow-through. I want my damn wine."

"Are you an alcoholic?"

"If I say yes, will you take pity and let me drink it?"

"No."

"Then no, I'm not."

"Mrs. Malfoy, may I ask a different personal question?"

"You may ask. I cannot promise to answer, and if I do answer, I cannot promise it will be the truth."

"Why haven't you divorced him? Despite what the Prophet's reporting, I'd bet my life there was no mystery attacker. Your husband did this to you. And the old injuries in your file, even the ones you thought had been hidden behind a fake name, he did those too, didn't he? And when I assisted with your intake, we found evidence of a number of... of ill-repaired sprains and breaks and barely healed suspicious contusions. All his doing, yes?"

Narcissa, her blue eyes full of undeserved shame, nodded.

"So why don't you leave? You're an intelligent, attractive woman. You have money, don't you? Your son clearly cares about your well-being." Siobhan, through changing the gauze, backed away, regarding the older woman carefully, hoping she had not stepped too far over the line.

Narcissa pressed her fingertips gently to the nearly healed bruise on her face and took a deep breath before answering, making the mediwitch privy to information she'd never shared with anyone save for her now-deceased sister. "I am not permitted to divorce my husband, Siobhan. I had an arranged marriage and entered into a Blood Oath Vow on my wedding day, effective as of the consummation of the union. He could divorce me if he so chose, but he has not and likely will not."

"What happens if you divorce him anyway? I doubt the Ministry would force you to stay..."

"It's a _Blood Oath_ Vow. If I were to divorce him, my blood would slowly turn to poison and I would die, most likely within the year. I could leave him _without_ filing for divorce, theoretically, but since he controls all of the money I would then be destitute, not to mention that after three months separation I would be legally obligated to return to him the galleons his family paid mine in exchange for my hand. A reverse-dowry, it was called. Very popular amongst pureblood families with sons, as it was of the utmost important they be married to women who could continue the family line, producing pedigreed sons – or, in the Malfoy's case, one son, as they feared more would cause inheritance disputes – thus when his first engagement, to my sister Andromeda, fell through, his parents were desperate enough to pay a significant sum for me. Every penny I'd make would be his until it was paid off."

"That's positively archaic!" gasped Siobhan. As the daughter of two half-bloods who met at Hogwarts, she was completely unaware of this custom and Vow. "What if he wanted to divorce you?"

"He could simply wave his wand, utter an uncomplicated incantation, and cast me out. I wouldn't have to pay him but he wouldn't be required to provide alimony or severance to me, either, and if our son were underage I would thereby lose any rights to him. I would have to return to my maiden name, I would be barren – not that it matters now, I'm over fifty – and all of the gold in our shared vault, even that which came from my parents upon their deaths, would belong entirely to him. I would have nothing and nowhere to go."

"You could stay with me!" said Siobhan, absolutely outraged by this misogynistic, patriarchal pureblood culture that had Narcissa so cruelly trapped. "You shouldn't have to go back there!"

"Thank you, dear," Narcissa patted her arm, chuckling as if placating a child. "But I made my bed when I consented to the marriage, thus I shall have to lie in it."

-0-0-0-

They shopped, they ate lunch, they cleaned up the destroyed bedroom, and then they waited for Delphini's new furniture to be delivered.

He'd worried they'd have nothing to say to each other. He needn't have.

She reminded him of himself when Hermione had first started working for him. It was as if she'd bottled up six weeks' worth of conversation, maybe more, and needed to get it all out before he'd stop being willing to listen. She told him about her classes, her professors, the other students, Hogwarts' grounds, the Astronomy tower, the library, the nurse's office, the food, the Forbidden Forest (she hadn't been in it, but she'd heard stories) and literally everything she'd read in the book about famous witches he'd gifted her the day they met.

He wondered if listening to him had been as exhausting for Hermione as listening to Delphini was for him. Surely not, he figured, since he was undoubtedly a more interesting conversationalist than an eleven-year-old girl.

He hoped.

"I'm glad to be away from there, really," she said. They were seated on opposite ends of the couch, having a biscuits and tea. "I don't need Hogwarts. I can teach myself just fine, like my moth..."

"Starting Monday, you will have an academic schedule," he interrupted. "You will study the assigned material of your core classes and I will test you weekly on what you've learned. I will handle the practical tutelage. I received Outstanding O.W.L.s in Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, and Herbology, thus I am amply qualified."

"What about History of Magic?"

"I got Exceeds Expectations in History of Magic."

"What about Astronomy?"

His expression soured. "Acceptable."

"Better than Troll," she said. Snickering, she added, "Which is interesting, considering the Ministry suspects you might be one."

"I wouldn't be laughing if I were you, child. You're already a quarter Muggle. You wouldn't want to be half-Troll too."

She rolled her eyes. "What about extras? Older students take things like Muggle Studies and Divination."

"I earned Outstanding in Ancient Runes, Exceeds Expectations in Care of Magical Creatures, and Acceptable in Arithmancy."

"Auntie Cissy studied Arithmancy, too. She earned Outstanding."

"Bully for her."

She rolled her eyes again, more exaggeratedly this time.

"You keep doing that," he said, gesturing toward her face, "And your eyes may just stick that way."

She resisted the urge to do it a third time.

"What do you wish to study, Delphini? Which is your best subject?"

"Charms," she replied. "Followed by Defense Against the Dark Arts. Which reminds me, since I'm here for awhile... how about you start teaching me Occlumency?"

"Why should I? It's easier to look into your mind if I don't. This way, I'll always know when you're lying to me. A useful skill for a parent to have, or so Narcissa assured me when explaining why she refused to teach Draco."

"I'll trade you for it."

"Trade me what? What could you possibly have that I need?"

"Gold. My mother left a lot of it. I'll pay you."

He smiled and shook his head slowly. "I don't want your money. But my personal assistant has suddenly vacated her position... how about if I agree to teach you Occlumency, and in exchange, you do chores?"

"Chores? Like cleaning? And cooking? And the things house elves do?"

"Yes, those are chores. You will have chores; I will teach you Occlumency. Deal?"

She chewed her lip and stared intently at the tea leaves gathered in the bottom of her mug while thinking it over. She'd never had chores before, save for throwing her dirty laundry in the enchanted hamper or down the chute so the house-elves could take care of it, and even that she often neglected to do. She couldn't even manage to return her dolls to her bedroom or wash her hair more than a couple of times per week without prompting. But she was eager to learn to close her mind and control her emotions...

Finally, she looked up at him and nodded.

"It's a deal."

-0-0-0-

On Saturday, Hermione was desperate to get out, to clear her head, and to keep the children occupied (without hearing them mention Severus every sixty seconds). So she took them back to the London Eye, that new massive Ferris wheel.

They all enjoyed riding it (though Helena quickly said "No, thanks!" when asked if she wanted to go again) and then were on their way to find a family friendly place for lunch when a couple on a bench caught Hermione's attention.

"It can't be."

She rubbed her eyes, certain they were playing tricks on her, that her brain was taking advantage of her emotional state. But after blinking several times, they were still there, side by side, smiling and laughing and eating ice cream cones in mid-October.

John and Kate Granger.

But of course, those weren't their names anymore. They had been Wendell and Monica Wilkins since the summer of 1997, when she wiped their memories and sent them off to Australia with no knowledge they'd ever had a daughter called Hermione.

Unable to stop herself, she hoisted Hero up higher on her hip, took Henry by the hand, and, with Helena on her heels, headed over to them.

"Excuse me? So sorry to bother you, but where did you get those ice cream cones? I know it's a bit chilly for ice cream, but they look delicious. We're... not from around here."

"Oh! Hello," said the woman, smiling pleasantly. Hermione wondered whether she would notice the resemblance between herself, Hermione, and Helena. "Aren't these three adorable? We got these from a little shop down that way..." She pointed. "It was a short walk, not sure of the name of the place, though. We're tourists, too."

"Visiting from where?" asked Hermione, desperate to keep the conversation going.

"Melbourne," answered the man. He was smiling too. "We're dentists there. We were both born here in England, actually, but moved Down Under maybe ten, twelve years ago. We love it. This is the first we've been back and it's the damndest thing, it's like we hardly remember London at all!"

"We lived somewhere outside the city, but can't recall precisely where. Funny, isn't it? The brain stores some things and deletes others, I suppose," said the woman. "Feels like a lifetime ago."

"Yes," said Hermione. "I know the feeling." She reached into her pocket for her wand and gave it a little jiggle, hiding a certain incantation with a cough. The woman coughed too.

"Alright, dear?" asked the man.

The woman nodded, but had to clear her throat several times. "How about we walk you there?" She rose from the bench. "I've had enough ice cream, but they had beverages, and I've suddenly got this tickle..."

Hermione smiled. Her spell had worked.

"I don't understand, Mummy," said Helena, walking between her mother and the woman. "You know how to get everywhere."

"I know it seems so, love," said Hermione nervously as the couple looked her over, "But... er... without Mummy's cell phone working, I can't find my way!"

"Your what?" asked Helena.

The man chuckled. "We rely on those silly things too much, too. Did your battery die? I have a charger..."

"Oh, no, I... I dropped it in the river. By mistake." Hermione's cheeks went red. She'd never been a great liar. Telling McGonagall she'd gone looking for the troll was about the extent of her abilities. And she loathed lying to her parents, even though they currently didn't know her from Adam. "What are your names?"

"Monica Wilkins," said the woman – her mother. "This is my husband, Wendell. Been married thirty-two years this November! And you are...?"

"Hermione Granger," she answered with a sharp pang in her chest. "These are my children, Helena, Henry, and Hero."

"Shakespearean names, all!" Wendell clapped his hands together. "How clever! We love the bard. Have seen more of his plays on stage than we can remember."

"And he means that!" added Monica with a chuckle. "We both have terrible memories."

"Can't forget our favorite shows, though. Mine is Much Ado About Nothing... which must be a familiar one for you." He winked at little Hero, who had no idea he was referring to the play from which she'd gotten her name.

"Hermione is from A Winter's Tale," Monica chimed in. "My all-time favorite. Such a lovely name. If ever I'd had a daughter, I think I might have named her Hermione."

The pang in Hermione's chest increased. It hurt almost as much as Dolohov's curse.

"Yes," she managed to respond, wishing she'd asked Severus to teach her Occlumency. "I believe it was my mother's favorite play, too."

* * *

 **A/N:**

A thought about using a Penseive to view students' memories: Originally I had drafted it that they did end up seeing Delphini's through it, but then I was thinking, there must be a reason they don't use them often, right? I assume extracting and returning memories without causing damage must be delicate work, or why wouldn't the Ministry have done it when Sirius was on trial or Umbridge have done it when questioning Harry when the Veritaserum ran out? My overall thought is that there's too much risk involved as memories could be damaged or tampered with once extracted, especially the memories of children since, as we saw with Helena, they are easily suggestible and warped by perspective, which is why Minerva simply sought confirmation from other kids. That's my gut feeling, anyway.

As an aside, all the spells Delphini uses to destroy the room are canon/JKR-created save for Perdereo. Since Bellatrix uses nonverbal magic to destroy Hagrid's hut and other things I wanted a special spell for her. Perdereo was adapted from the Latin "Peredo" meaning "to demolish or destroy."

Thanks for reading and reviewing the last several chapters! I love reading your reactions. They make me so super happy!

 **-AL**

PS: Don't worry, Severus and Hermione WILL work stuff out... but it'll take a few chapters because they're both stubborn, proud people who've already each experienced more than their fair share of heartache. Also there are a few Severus-heavy chaps in a row but Hermione gets more attention later. :)


	43. Frailty

**CHAPTER FORTY-THREE**

 **Frailty, thy name is woman.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

One week passed.

Severus did not go to Hermione.

Hermione did not go to Severus.

Neither wanted to be the one to make the first move.

-0-0-0-

"Delphini, do you know what day it is?"

"Yes. It's Saturday. Why?"

"You have been here for one week now, and – correct me if I am wrong – you have yet to wash your hair."

Delphini glared at Severus across the breakfast table. As usual, she was eating vinegar-soaked toast and a boiled egg, which she'd made herself, as he'd informed her the day before she was old enough to start making simple meals on her own. He'd prepared himself a more filling (less smelly) breakfast of eggs, toast, baked beans, sausage, and grilled tomato.

"My hair is fine. I took a shower on Wednesday."

"Did you wash your hair when you took this shower?"

"No, I put it up in a bun and kept my head away from the water so it wouldn't get wet. _Ugh."_ Though she'd said this in an unmistakably sarcastic tone, he had the feeling that was precisely what she'd done.

"Headmistress McGonagall will be here around noon to deliver your owl and the assignments from your professors. I would prefer you look... presentable... when she arrives, lest she think I am neglecting my duties as your father. As soon as you're through eating, go take a shower. And wash your hair this time."

"Noooo..." whined Delphini. "I don't wannnnt to. It's so heavy when it gets wet and it won't dry for _hours_! A towel isn't enough and a drying charm makes it..." She held out her hands as if supporting a huge afro. "I washed it on Wednesday, I swear I did!"

"If you are going to lie to me, I am going to stop teaching you Occlumency."

"It's not fairrrr!" Delphini shoved her plate toward the center of the table. She'd had this same fight with Auntie Cissy countless times, but couldn't believe she was having it with Professor Snape too, especially considering the state of _his_ hair.

"In case it escaped your notice, life is not fair. If you are through eating, go take a shower and wash your hair."

She snapped her fingers on every word (a habit Narcissa hated). "I. Don't. Want. To. Wash. My. Hair!"

"Wash your hair."

"No!" she banged her fists childishly on the table. "You can't make me!"

"Wash your hair."

"Augghhh!" Delphini stood up, knocking over the chair, also something she'd done countless times while battling her aunt. "Why do you hate me?!"

"I do not hate you. Wash your hair. Or... you're grounded."

"Grounded? What does that mean?"

He shrugged. Grounded was the go-to punishment of Lily's parents, who took it very seriously when she missed curfew while home for the summers, no matter the reason. For Lily, it meant a week of not going out, but since Delphini couldn't go out anyway...

"It means go take a damn shower, that's what it means."

Delphini shrieked again but stalked off through the sitting room to the stairs, stomped her feet up each step, and, a moment later, slammed the bathroom door.

"Don't slam the door!" called Severus, making his way from the kitchen to the sitting room.

He heard the bathroom door creak open.

"What did you say?" she called.

"I said, do not slam the door!"

There was a pause.

Then...

"Don't tell me what to do!"

"Delphini Druella..." Severus made it to the bottom of the stairs just in time for...

 _SLAM._

Severus sighed, returned to the kitchen and set his attention to the eggs and sausage on his plate. He found he was no longer hungry. He propped his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands.

"I am not cut out for this," he muttered.

He missed Hermione.

-0-0-0-

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" shouted Henry gleefully, jumping from one couch cushion to the next.

"Henry, if you say that word one more time..." She was at the sink, finishing up the breakfast dishes. Helena was helping to dry. Hero was crawling around, a stuffed animal hanging out of her mouth, like a dog with a bone. "I swear, you will be in big trouble."

"Fuck!" shouted Henry, staring defiantly back at his mother, a grin on his face.

"Young man, that is it! Sit down, you are in Time Away."

"No!"

"Sit down!"

"No Time Away!"

"Yes, Time Away!"

"Fuck Time Away!"

"Henry John Granger!"

She tried to grab him, to make him sit, but he slipped out of her wet hands and ran into the bedroom. She followed him. He was jumping on the bed, landing on his bottom, laughing.

"I am completely over this misbehavior, Henry. You will sit in Time Away until you learn to obey the rules." She put her hands under his arms to lift him. He wiggled and kicked, screaming, no longer enjoying this 'game.'

"No, Mummy! No! No! No!"

"Yes! You have been awful all week! What is wrong with you?" She plopped him on the couch. "Sit there. Time Away. And no more bad words. I mean it!"

"Fuck you." He slapped her across the face with his tiny open-palmed hand.

"Henry!" Hermione grabbed him by the arm, lifted him, and smacked him on the bottom. Not hard enough to hurt, but the shock of it prompted the boy to burst into tears.

"Mummy hit me!"

"Oh, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Henry!" Hermione's eyes welled with tears too. She reached for her son to comfort him, but he scooted away defensively. "I didn't mean to spank you! I'm just... so... frustrated! I haven't been sleeping, I need a job, I'm depressed about my parents, I'm worried about the knife and that man and Lucius Malfoy and... and... and none of that is your fault, and I'm sorry!"

"You bad Mummy," said Henry, rubbing his bum with both hands. He added in a scolding tone, "You hit Henwy. Not app-po-pee-it. You use wohds, not hands!"

"It's alright, Mummy," said Helena, patting her mother's thigh sympathetically. "Sometimes I want to hit Henry, too."

Hermione sank onto the couch, her face hidden by her frazzled hair.

"I can't do this alone anymore," she whispered.

She missed Severus.

-0-0-0-

Minerva arrived at noon exactly, via Floo Network.

"Your owl," she said, holding out the caged bird to Delphini. The girl did not speak.

Severus nudged her.

"Thank Professor McGonagall."

Delphini glared at him but managed to mumble a thank you.

"You're welcome," she said as Delphni turned and stomped up the stairs to her bedroom. Minerva smiled sympathetically at Severus as she set down a large roll of parchment, a number of assignments from each professor, and the Herbology textbook Victoire Weasley had swiped but never returned. "Going well, I see?"

"Most of the time, actually, it's fine. Tea?"

"Please."

He summoned over a cup for each of them. He'd already prepared it, as he'd been reasonably confident she'd accept the offer.

"She's told me a lot about school. Sounds like she wasn't only being picked on by the students. Professor Longbottom seems to have difficulty looking at her. Any idea why that may be?"

"You know as well as I why that may be," said Minerva before sipping her tea. "But he certainly isn't guilty of picking on her."

"It hurts her feelings. You should speak with him. Or I will. It is not acceptable for a professor to treat a student that way. Professors should teach, guide, and encourage, not upset, frighten, or ridicule."

Minerva laughed. Severus sent her a sharp look.

"What's funny?"

"Severus, how long have we known each other?"

"Since I was eleven," he answered. "Why?"

"Let me be candid with you. While I do not find your daughter's situation amusing, I can't help but see the irony, and, frankly, the hypocrisy in your words regarding Professor Longbottom."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, Neville Longbottom was terrified of you in his Hogwarts days! Terrified! So much so that you – _you!_ – were the form taken by the Boggart he faced in Professor Lupin's class. Not Bellatrix Lestrange, who tortured his parents. Not Lord Vol... Voldemort." (She hated saying the name.) "Not Dementors or masked Death Eaters or Inferi. _You!_ His grandmother and I had quite a laugh over the way he handled making your image Riddikulus-worthy, by the way."

Severus scowled. "That was entirely different. He was afraid of me in the same way he was afraid of his own shadow. I did nothing to intimidate him."

"You can't be serious! You openly picked on the boy! I spoke to Albus about it on more than one occasion and I know he spoke to you! And now here you are, bothered because he has difficulty making eye contact with your daughter? For what it's worth, while her resemblance to her mother makes him uncomfortable, but he does not dislike her. He spoke quite highly of her abilities, actually, and was supportive of the Ministry's decision to allow her to return in January. He said if need be he'd write a letter to the Board about it, as there are still a few members who are pushing for expulsion."

"No doubt headed up by that mangy half-werewolf Bill Weasley."

"Put yourself in Bill's shoes, Severus."

"I can't," Severus ran his finger along the rim of his mug. "His shoes are far too small."

"You know what I mean," Minerva huffed. "His daughter spent two days in St. Mungo's."

"You heard the confirmation of student witnesses. You know what they were doing to her, what they'd said. Do you have any doubt she was also telling the truth about her Herbology incident and that girl having lifted her skirt in the hall? Do you need me to extract her memories so you can view them for yourself? Those girls have been vicious."

"I don't disagree, Severus." Minerva shook her head sadly, feeling guilty for having let this occur right under her nose, for not having seen or suspected. For not having reached out to the girl just in case. "And they've been spoken to about it. Detentions and House Point Deductions and strict orders to leave Delphini alone when she returns. But Severus, it was an _Unforgivable_ Curse."

-0-0-0-

Eloise's parents, the Feingolds, agreed to babysit for the afternoon. Hermione felt badly about lying to them – she'd said she had a family emergency – but she had to get out of her flat.

She had to get away from her children.

She had to clear her head.

And there was someone she needed to see.

-0-0-0-

Severus sighed. "She's a good kid, Minerva. She was pushed to her limit and she reacted viscerally... We will work on other ways to handle such... stress. I am teaching her to Occlude. She is learning to control her emotions. She doesn't have 'bad blood,' no matter who her mother was, but can you imagine how it must have been for her every day, being treated that way, with even professors worrying she might be evil, questioning whether her father–"

"At least those rumors have been put to bed now," said Minerva. "I wish you'd informed me earlier, even if you weren't ready for the public at large to be in the know. I damn near fell out of my chair when she asked me to contact her father then gave your name and this address."

"I shouldn't have let those rumors persist," he agreed. "It was selfish. I was protecting my own privacy and reputation without thinking about hers."

Delphini, unseen by either of the adults in the sitting room, settled herself on the top step, BELLA doll cradled in her arms, listening.

"I must say, though, I'm still having a spot of trouble understanding how... how she came to be. You and Bellatrix Lestrange? Were you romantically involved? I never would have thought..."

"Bellatrix wanted a baby. The Dark Lord chose me to give her one. No romance. But I would prefer to keep that out of the Prophet. They've already reported what she did at school and that I'm her father. Let them think Bellatrix and I were involved. There's enough speculation without admitting..."

"Your secret is safe with me, Severus. Does the girl know you were... chosen? Or does she think...?"

"She knows. And as much as Delphini would like to believe her mother and I loved each other, I have assured her we did not. Bellatrix did not want to be with me and I did not want to be with her, but she did want a baby and once the Dark Lord selected me, I had no other choice. I have been abundantly clear with Delphini about that."

"The poor dear." Minerva couldn't imagine how it must feel for the girl, knowing she was only brought into the world because her father had been forced into impregnating her mother.

"She wants so badly to be loved, Minerva. She's only been here a week and already asked at least two dozen times whether I think her mother loved her."

"And did she?"

"I believe she did, yes. But it worries me."

"What does?" Minerva set her empty mug on the coffee table between them.

"I know how it is to grow up feeling unloved, Minerva." He glared at the table, unwilling to look to her while expressing this vulnerability. "There was nearly as much violence in my home as a child as there's been in hers. From age nine on, I wanted Lily to love me, the way I thought I loved her. When she didn't, I turned to the Death Eaters. I needed a place to feel important and I thought if I had respect from others that might translate into love from Lily. I could not have been more wrong, clearly."

"You're doing fine, Severus." Minerva leaned forward to squeeze his hand. "What you endured for all those years – you are an intelligent man with a good heart. You had no one, but Delphini has you. You and her aunt. You can keep her from feeling the way you did."

"But what if Narcissa and I can't love her enough? What if the first boy she falls for breaks her heart? Will she fall into a bad crowd in an ill-fated attempt to win him back? Or what if he uses her love to manipulate her? Bellatrix was the way she was because from a young age she loved the Dark Lord and was desperate for him to love her back. I don't..." He leaned forward, letting a curtain of hair shield his face from Minerva's discerning gaze, but did not pull his hand away from hers. "I don't know how to be a father, Minerva. I don't know how to love. What if I'm not enough? What if I ruin her?"

"What does Hermione think about this?" Minerva moved to sit beside him on the couch. She kept her hand on top of his comfortingly. "Surely, being a mother herself, she has advice?"

"She doesn't even know Delphini is here." His expression darkened.

"No? I thought... when we last spoke, it seemed things were going well."

"I thought they were. Until she left me. Quite unexpectedly. The morning after I nearly confessed to being in l..." He looked away and even without being a Legilimens, Minerva inherently knew what he'd stopped short of telling the young Gryffindor. "She said she needed space. I haven't heard from her since."

"Ah, I see." Minerva's heart broke for him.

Up on the stairs, Delphini's heart was breaking too. She felt terrible for having been such a brat all morning, simply because he wanted her to wash her hair before Headmistress McGonagall arrived. He'd been good to her all week, aside from insisting she learn to cook and clean, of course (though that was paying off, as she'd already had two Occlumency lessons and was looking forward to her next one). He'd taken up for her in front of the Ministry and taken her in when he could have sent her back to Malfoy Manor to live with Draco – or worse, let the Ministry take her into custody, to send her to prison or an orphanage. He'd let her choose her own furniture and bedding and helped her set up her room and he was tutoring her so she wouldn't fall behind academically. And how had she repaid him? By throwing a fit and slamming the door after he'd specifically told her not to. She inched partway down the stairs on her bottom, wanting to join them, but reluctant to interrupt.

He was right. She did indeed want to be loved.

-0-0-0-

It was Siobhan's day off.

Narcissa thought about sending a Patronus message to Viktor urging him to try to sneak in, but given how famous he still was, having only recently retired from Quidditch, she doubted he could get around without getting noticed.

Damn it.

-0-0-0-

Hermione had to agree to let Healer and former Hufflepuff Ernie Macmillan take her out to lunch afterward, but she figured it was a small price to pay to gain access to a patient on a closed ward.

-0-0-0-

"Have you had lunch?" asked Severus, composing himself. "I was thinking of taking Delphini out. I believe we're suffering from being cooped up together in this dark and dreary house too long."

"I have not. Would you like to grab a bite at that new place in Hogsmeade?"

"I would, yes." He waved his wand, clearing up their tea things. "Delphini!"

"Coming!" She leapt to her feet and hurried down the rest of the stairs, determined to make up for earlier. "I fed my owl and gave her fresh water and I made my bed and tidied my room," she said, placing her BELLA doll on the couch. "We can go out for lunch? I promise I'll be good."

-0-0-0-

"They let you in here?" Narcissa propped herself up, instantly feeling combative though she had no clear idea why. She no longer had any interest in Severus and frankly she couldn't give less of a damn if the young woman wanted to extort money from Lucius in exchange for her silence regarding the existence of their shared child, and yet the sight of the bushy-haired, brown-eyed Mudblood instantly annoyed her.

"Can we talk, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"We probably could." Narcissa leaned back and closed her eyes. "If I were so inclined."

"Stop it. I want to know about the knife."

"Hmm?" Narcissa opened one eye. "What knife?"

"The one Lucius used to slash your throat."

Narcissa put her hand subconsciously over the gauze. "What makes you think Lucius did this? The Daily Prophet reported it was..."

"I know he did it. I don't put much stock in what the Prophet says." Hermione wasn't sure whether Narcissa knew that Draco had come to Severus to inform him, or whether Draco had known Hermione was there at the time, but she didn't much care. "Severus said he used your sister's knife, the one she used to do this." Hermione shoved up the sleeve of her jumper to reveal the red letters forever marred into her skin. "But I don't see how that's possible. You saw her throw it; you saw it get Dobby in the chest. It was still in him when we apparated. It was with us until we broke into Gringotts and a day later, Bellatrix was dead. How could she have possibly gotten it back?"

Now Narcissa was interested. She sat up and gestured toward a chair for Hermione to sit.

"I had no idea what happened to that knife. Seeing it on my husband's hip shocked me. I'm positive it was hers. It was an heirloom. I'd know it anywhere. I saved it when she went to Azkaban after the Dark Lord's fall, along with her wand, and returned both to her upon her release."

"And after the Final Battle?"

"I took custody of her personal effects after she died. You discarded her wand on a table. I took that. She was wearing several rings. I took those. She had a photograph of Delphini in her pocket. I took that. I also took a necklace that belonged to our mother and a lock of her hair. She did not have the knife. Of this, I am _absolutely_ certain."

"Then how did your husband get it?"

"I have no idea. I didn't have time to ask him, between being beaten and having my throat slit. My apologies. Next time I'll be more inquisitive about the things that matter, asking 'Where did you find that knife?' rather than 'Why are you trying to kill me?'"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You needn't get snarky."

"I've been here for weeks and haven't been allowed a single visitor save for my son. One finally gets past the guards and it's... you. Forgive me for not being terribly excited considering I was hoping for someone more..." Her eyes darted toward her nightstand, where a card from Viktor was prominently displayed. Hermione's keen eye caught the familiar signature. She smiled, leaning forward conspiratorially.

"Someone more adept at Quidditch?" she asked, an almost Slytherin-esque gleam in her eye. "Have you become pen-pals with my friend Viktor Krum?"

In spite of her generally poor attitude and the fact that she still couldn't imagine ever liking Hermione Granger Narcissa smiled.

"Indeed I have. He's quite the letter writer. Better in Bulgarian than in English. I appreciate the fact that you introduced us. Have you slept with him?"

"Have I?" Hermione pointed at her chest. "Why do you ask?"

"If you have, and I assume you have, you know that he's rubbish in bed." Narcissa said this matter-of-factly. "However, he's also rather young and fit and well-endowed, not to mention mad for me for some odd reason, so I think, given time, I can fix him."

Hermione's face relaxed into a grin. Though she'd never really been one for girl talk (frankly, she'd never had that many girl friends... or friends in general...) she was eager to hear more.

"I'm not going to confirm or deny your... assumption... but if we had slept together and if I did agree that he's no good at it, I'd be very curious about what makes you think you can fix him."

"I fixed Severus, didn't I?" Narcissa chuckled. "Oh, you dear girl, I forgot, you have no point of comparison. So let me assure you, the Severus you are fortunate enough to enjoy did not exist until I'd had a few good months with him. Prior to me, his primary experience had been with that dowdy Muggle Studies professor, who was as boring in the bedroom as one would expect from anyone with her dismal taste in clothing. Thus, I molded him to suit my needs. Unsurprisingly, he was a quick learner when given the right instruction. You're welcome."

"What makes you think I'm sleeping with Severus?"

"I'm not an idiot."

"You can't assume that just because..."

"I'm also a Legilimens, remember?" Narcissa smirked. "I know what you were doing the morning I dropped in unexpectedly. So sorry I interrupted what was to be your first time together. But I'm perusing your mind right now, without you even realizing it, and from what I can see you more than made up for it at a later date. Really, though – in the cellar, so close to a bubbling cauldron? Seems dangerous."

"Oh." Hermione tried to suppress her embarrassment... and close her mind. "Well... thank you. And you're welcome for introducing you to Viktor. I suppose we're even?"

"Given how much Viktor adores me, I'd be inclined to agree."

"You seem as though you're recovering well. Will they be moving you soon? Or releasing you?"

"I'm afraid I'm only healthy as long as I remain in this bed. When I try to walk my mind goes fuzzy and I faint. They're working on it. They're rather confused about me, actually. The knife is imbibed with a dark magic, that's why the scars from it are not removable and cannot be covered..." (Hermione rubbed her inner forearm subconsciously.) "But there's no clear reason the wound won't close completely or stop bleeding, especially considering that it doesn't seem to have been all that deep, hence my ability to speak without issue. They do believe I can soon transfer to the convalescent home where Severus spent the bulk of his recovery though. Perhaps I'll end up stuck there for five years as he was and my husband will grow so sick of being single he'll divorce me in the interim."

"Why don't you divorce him?"

"How is my Delphini?" asked Narcissa, abruptly changing the subject. "Between Skeeter's deplorable exposé on my sister and the Prophet's recent articles about her parentage and school suspension..."

"She was suspended from school?" Hermione hadn't been reading the paper, not since she saw the news of Padma Patil's promotion.

"You didn't know? How could you not know? Severus was the one who convinced them not to expel her. They're worried about letting her back in January, though. A petition has been sent to the Hogwarts Board of Directors asking she not be permitted to return. Her wand was broken in half – my sister Bella's wand – and they allegedly discussed trying her in front of a partial Wizengamot. Severus is considering taking up the Defense Against the Dark Arts position when the current professor vacates it to keep an eye on her. He would rather not return to Hogwarts, of course, but they need a professor, she needs a protector, and the Board needs a promise that she'll be under control. He hasn't discussed this with you?"

"I..." Hermione avoided eye contact, not wishing for Narcissa to invade her thoughts and see their painful goodbye. "I left Severus."

"Why?" Narcissa's cobalt blue eyes flashed with anger, then filled with forced concern. "Did he hurt you?"

"Quite the contrary. I hurt him."

"How so?"

"By leaving. When I told him I need space, he shut down."

"Space?" Narcissa scoffed as if such a thing were unimaginable. "What does that mean, you need space?"

"It means... I need... space. Time to myself, to work out what I want. What I want long term. Whether I can handle a future with him."

"You think too much. Don't worry about the future. It's not promised to us. Even though the war is over, we could die any day, in a thousand different ways." Narcissa brushed her fingers against the gauze over her slit throat. "Clearly. Enjoy the present."

"There's more." Hermione shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "I think he's in love with me."

"I don't understand, then." Narcissa set aside her jealousy, as her curiosity was stronger. "If he's in love with you, what's the problem?"

"The problem is, I think I'm in love with him."

-0-0-0-

Delphini was polite to the point of awkwardness during lunch with Severus and Professor McGonagall. She sat with her back straight and hands folded whenever she wasn't drinking or eating, waited to speak unless spoken to, and took care not to slurp her soup or let her elbows touch the table.

It was driving Severus mad. Finally, he could stand it no longer.

"Take a breath, Delphini. Minerva has been around children before. She doesn't expect you to act as though you're having tea with the Queen."

"Auntie Cissy says to present one's self properly when one is among guests is essential, as it is a mark of good breeding."

"It should relieve you to know, then, that you are not 'of good breeding.' You're half mine, and the ill-bred half that's mine is allowed to carry on a conversation, eat at a normal pace, and slouch a little."

Delphini's cheeks went pink but she let herself relax.

Minerva hid a smile behind her napkin.

"Professor Flitwick tells me you excel in Charms, Delphini. He's sent along more work for you than his First Years will be tackling in class, as he thinks you can handle the additional challenges. And Professor Chang-Zabini was most disappointed to learn you'd not be returning before she leaves to have her baby. She says you're one of her best students, always raising your hand, with top marks on your homework."

Delphini's cheeks went even pinker, but it was from a different sort of embarrassment.

"Thank you, Professor. I want to do well. I want everyone to think I'm... good."

"You _are_ good," Severus assured her. Their waiter approached to clear away the remains of Delphini's soup and sandwich, Severus' bangers and mash, and Minerva's fish and chips. Hovering behind him on a tray were their desserts.

"Of course you're good," added Minerva nodding her thanks at the waiter as he set her pudding down in front of her. "You made one mistake. In the future, should you find yourself the victim of such bullying – though I hope that won't happen – you will come straight to me, or in my absence, to your Head of House. Understand?"

"I understand."

"I am still considering taking up the post, Minerva. In which case she should come to me."

"You don't want the position, Severus. You would be miserable back at Hogwarts. You told me so in no uncertain terms when you declined it in August."

Severus sighed. "Circumstance change, Minerva. You know that as well as I."

-0-0-0-

Hermione plaited her hair to have something to do with her hands while she awaited Narcissa's reply.

"It's certainly something to think about," said Narcissa after a too-long pause. She bit her lip. "Do you think she would even consider me, though? Assuming I can walk without fainting, of course. I'm not sure I'm qualified."

"You're as qualified as anyone else. Considering the subject, perhaps even more so! Who better than someone who has seen both sides of two wars?"

"Sounds like a job for Severus, then."

"He doesn't want it. He wants..."

"You. He wants you."

Hermione glowered. She was through speaking of Severus, as she'd already made clear after the accidental 'love' admission. Narcissa chuckled.

"There are worse things than being wanted by a good man, Ms. Granger."

-0-0-0-

Helena spent most of the afternoon apologizing to Mrs. Feingold, Eloise's mother, for Henry's abhorrent behavior and language.

"Is this what my daughter put up with all summer?" asked the exasperated woman as she cleaned up the lunch mess.

Hero had dropped some of her food on the floor, as babies do.

Henry had thrown his, bowl and all, at all the refrigerator.

Now he was running in circles, screaming, knocking whatever he could onto the floor. Helena tackled him.

"Mummy will be so mad at you!"

"Fuck Mummy!" he shouted.

"This is why women should be married!" Mrs. Feingold exclaimed. "Children with a strong fatherly presence in the household don't act like this! I don't know why the woman divorced your father, but..."

"He died," Helena reminded her. "Our dad died."

"Yes, well." She lifted Hero from the floor to keep her from playing in the mess Henry made. "What about this one's father? Did he die too?"

"What do you mean?" Helena climbed off of her struggling brother. "Hero's dad is our dad. He used to call me Helly Bean."

Mrs. Feingold grimaced. Though her husband was a Muggle and she'd given up magic upon marrying him, she'd started subscribing to the Daily Prophet when Eloise left for Hogwarts last year, thus she'd read the article in which Hero was erroneously identified as Scorpius Malfoy. The resemblance between the two children (Scorpius had been pictured in the Tenth Anniversary edition) was uncanny. Therefore, though she couldn't be certain, Mrs. Feingold wouldn't be surprised if Draco Malfoy were the father of both Scorpius Malfoy and Hero Granger – she suspected Hermione might even be with him right now, as she'd looked awfully nice when she left. Too nice for a sudden family emergency.

"Mrs. Feingold?" Helena tugged at the woman's skirt, needing a response. "We have the same dad, Hero, Henry, and me."

"Right," Mrs. Feingold said awkwardly, not having meant to reveal what was obviously meant to be kept secret. "Of course you do."

-0-0-0-

After bidding Narcissa goodbye, Hermione had to keep up her end of the bargain that got her into the closed ward in the first place, by joining Ernie Macmillan for lunch. They went to a nearby restaurant popular among wizards from non-Magical families, as it was walking distance from St. Mungo's but had a lively, mixed clientele. Witches and wizards knew to give the code that would get them a seat upstairs, while those who failed to mention Dilys Derwent (former Hogwarts Headmistress and renowned Healer) were told all the tables upstairs had been booked by reservation at least a year out, with the management's apologies for any inconvenience, and were then seated on the first floor.

"Hello," said the witch in charge of seating, smiling at Ernie and Hermione. "Table for two?"

"Two, yes," said Ernie. He slipped his arm around Hermione's waist. "Dilys Derwent sent us. She also sends her regards."

"Of course!" the witch beamed. "There's a wait for downstairs seating but if I'm not mistaken, you have a reservation?"

"That's right," lied Ernie. "Under Macmillan."

The witch pretended to check her list, grabbed two menus, and gestured for them to follow her to the stairs. "Right this way!"

"But we've been waiting half an hour for a table!" whined a Muggle woman in her mid-forties, arm linked with that of her graying, portly husband.

"Always get a reservation," Ernie said pompously. "That's my advice!"

Hermione, trying to ignore the feeling of his hand placed securely on her lower back, sighed.

-0-0-0-

"I've lost a stone already. If you're going to keep me here much longer, you need to feed me more," said Lucius, watching jealously as the man in front of him enjoyed a takeaway platter of fish and chips. The man threw him a fry. Though it was an affront to his dignity, Lucius grabbed it from the floor in front of him and shoved it into his mouth.

"It won't be much longer. Once they release her to the convalescent home, it'll be easy for you to gain access to her. And once she's out of the way, assuming they don't catch you and give you over to a Dementor, I have just one other job for you..."

-0-0-0-

"Thank you for lunch, Severus. You did not need to treat!"

"Thank Dumbledore when you return to your office," said Severus, placing the coins on the table. "I'm treating with his money."

"Since we're in Hogsmeade, can we go to Honeydukes?" Delphini smiled hopefully up at her father.

"You've just had dessert."

"Not for now, for later! Please?"

"Alright then," he acquiesced. He handed her a few coins. She ran off down the street with Severus and Minerva trailing after. "Get me a couple of Ice Mice!" he called. She waved to confirm she would.

"You're good for her, Severus," Minerva said softly. "I'm proud of you. And now that we're alone, what happened with Hermione?"

"I don't know more than what I've already told you, Minerva. I don't understand it." He shrugged, watching as Delphini hurried into the store. "I wish I did."

-0-0-0-

They were through with their meal (Ernie had talked, mostly about himself, the entire time) and were heading out when the heel of Hermione's shoe caught on the carpet. She stumbled, unable to catch herself on the banister, but Ernie grabbed her around the waist saving her from a certain tumble down the stairs.

A flashbulb when off.

Hermione's head snapped up. She stepped away from Ernie, looking for the source of the light.

Seated by the window, with platinum blonde hair and rose red lips, was none other than Rita Skeeter. She lowered her camera to the table.

"Mother of three Hermione Granger, rumored to have been seeing ex-professor Severus Snape, and St. Mungo's Healer Ernie Macmillan, a sought-after bachelor, here, together? How fascinating. Care to give me a quote for the Prophet?"

"Here's a quote," snapped Hermione, glaring at the contemptible woman. "Don't _bug_ me."

"Oh, dear, hadn't you heard? My secret is out. I'm Registered now. My editor insisted. So that little threat won't do you much good. What about you, Mr. Macmillan? Off the market now? Anything to say to your scores of lady fans? How down they'll be to learn their hero has found a heroine."

"I'm a Healer, nor a hero," said Ernie, tossing his hair in a way that reminded Hermione of Gilderoy Lockhart. "All I want is to make the world a better place. And if Miss Granger would like to assist me with that..."

"For goodness sakes, it was just lunch!" Hermione, trying desperately to keep from letting her anger make her say something she'd most assuredly regret, shook Ernie's hand, thanked him for 'everything,' and hurried down the stairs. He followed, wanting to know whether they'd be able to get lunch again sometime soon.

"Please? I had a nice time."

"I'm sorry, Ernie," she said, wishing it wouldn't be a violation of the Statute of Secrecy to apparate away from right here on a crowded street. "I'm sort of seeing someone."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thank you so so so so so much for the reviews and reactions on the last few chapters! I have LOVED reading them. I have to be honest, I didn't like Delphini much when I first started writing her but I'm having fun finding a balance between spoiled obnoxious brat and sweet girl who just needs to be loved... basically, she's like most eleven-year-olds (lol). More of Hermione and her kids coming up in a couple of chapters and of course, the Hermione/Severus reconciliation and the final showdown with the mystery villain with the brief return of Luna & Rolf, plus the end of Narcissa and Lucius' whole mini-story... and all that jazz. Thanks for sticking with it!

 **-AL**


	44. Doubt the Stars, Doubt the Sun

**CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR**

 **Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move...**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Severus liked having a schedule again.

He and Delphini cooked breakfast side by side and ate together starting at approximately eight-thirty every morning.

On Mondays and Wednesdays this was followed by an hour of Charms, an hour of Herbology, and an hour of Transfiguration, then half an hour for free time, and lunch at one.

On Tuesdays and Thursday, the time was set aside for an hour each Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions, plus half an hour of Occlumency, followed by an hour of leisure, then lunch at one.

On Fridays they started off with an hour of History of Magic, half an hour of flying lessons in the garden, then an hour of what he called Basics - arithmetic and grammar. Unlike Draco, Delphini had not attended a semi-private wizarding primary school, thus she was a little more behind than Severus would like. This was, of course, followed by free time and lunch.

He decided because she was getting more education in less time with his 1:1 tutelage she would only have homework on weekends. He hadn't worked out how she could learn Astronomy without a decent sight of the stars and a telescope but he wasn't worried about it at the moment.

Weekday afternoons, she did chores from 2-4, though sometimes this was as simple as keeping him company and fetching ingredients while he brewed more complicated potions for the Ministry (they'd requested several more after he delivered the Veritaserum). Twice, they spent part of the time at the market, since Hermione was no longer doing his shopping.

From 4-6 she was free again to do what she wanted, at six precisely they ate dinner together (she made her own breakfast and lunch, but he cooked dinner) after which she joined him in the sitting room to read. He smiled, but made no comment, when she selected Oliver Twist off his shelf.

"Muggle books are strange," she said halfway through the first chapter of the Dickens novel. But she finished it in two days then picked up Great Expectations.

Over the next week and a half, they both settled comfortably into this routine, though life was not without drama. She was still resistant to hair washing and asked frequently for information about her mother, and a couple of times she blew up at him over something small only to end up crying over how abandoned she'd felt growing up motherless without knowing him, which, of course, made him feel like the worst parent to come out of the Wizarding world since Delphini's grandmother Druella (who'd viewed her three daughters as valuable property rather than people).

"I had to live with Euphemia Rowle and she _hated_ me!" Delphini sobbed into his chest one night after waking him to complain that she couldn't sleep. "Auntie didn't even want me! Nobody wanted me!"

"I'm sorry," he said over and over, rocking her the way his mother used to him when he was a very small boy. Once she'd calmed, he sat in a chair beside her bed, reading aloud until she finally fell asleep. Then he returned to his own room to do the same.

But sleep would not come.

-0-0-0-

Hermione wanted Padma Patil's job at the Ministry. Not the job Padma was going to be vacating... no. Hermione wanted the job she was being promoted to. Hermione wanted to work under Kingsley Shacklebolt. It wasn't fair. Hermione had been there for years before she got pregnant with Hero and had to leave. Padma had only been there since replacing Hermione about two years ago. How had that dull, vapid former Ravenclaw managed to dazzle the necessary people in so little time?

"Mummy?" Helena crawled on the couch beside Hermione. Hero and Henry were napping, though it had been a chore to get the boy down. "Mummy, why are you in a bad mood?"

"I'm not in a bad mood, love."

"Yes, you _are_ in a bad mood, always. Is it because you miss Professor Snape? Because he's not your friend anymore?"

"Why would you ask me that?" Hermione pulled the precocious five-year-old into her lap so they were facing each other and kissed her cheek. "We're still... friends. But sometimes friends don't see each other every day."

"In Fox and the Hound the friends can't be friends anymore because they are too different. Are him and you like Tod and Copper?"

"No." Hermione chuckled. "Harry and I are more like Tod and Copper. Professor Snape and I are like..." She wracked her brain, going through Disney movie after Disney movie, until she found one that would fit. "We're like Belle and the Beast. Belle and the Beast didn't get along at first, then they learned to be friends, but in order to help her father – her family – Belle had to leave the Beast. It was better that way."

"But she goes back, remember? When the bad guys go to the castle, Belle goes back to save Beast."

"You're right." Hermione hugged her daughter, wondering how she got so lucky to have this sweet, sage girl. "The trouble is, I don't know if the Beast wants to see Belle anymore."

"Don't be silly, Mummy!" Helena giggled. "The Beast has to want to see Belle. He needs Belle. Belle saves his life!"

"It doesn't necessarily work that way in real life, love. Real life doesn't always have a happy ever after."

"But it can." Helena took Hermione's face in her delicate hands, concern evident all over her five-year-old face. "It can, can't it Mummy?"

-0-0-0-

"Oi, Professor?"

It was Monday afternoon during chores time, the start of Delphini's third week at the home Spinner's End. Everything she'd been asked to do was done, thus Delphini was assisting Severus in his cellar lab for the afternoon.

"Yes?"

"Who is Reginald Park?"

He set down the vial of Bubotuber pus he'd been about to pour into his bubbling cauldron.

"Excuse me?"

"You asked Professor McGonagall at lunch last Saturday if she remembered him from Hogwarts. You said you had your suspicions about him. Who is he?"

"He..." Severus sighed, lifted the vial, and added the correct amount to his concoction. "He used to be married to a woman I know."

"Hermione Granger?"

He grunted confirmation and turned away, not keen to discuss it. Delphini either didn't get the hint or didn't care.

"Why isn't she your girlfriend anymore? She _was_ your girlfriend, wasn't she? Auntie Cissy told me I had to take care not to use the word Mudblood in my letters to you because she said you were dating one and would be offended."

"How very _considerate_ of your aunt." He set down the empty vial and reached for the next ingredient, powdered moonstone, which Delphini was holding. "My relationship with Ms. Granger aside, I do not allow use of that word in my home."

"Why? I don't see why everyone gets so tetchy over it. It's just a word. It means, like, Muggle-born, or the kid of a Muggle-born. Not pureblood. That's all."

"No, Muggle-born means Muggle-born. Mudblood means dirty blood. Dirty, mud. It's a slur. A derogatory term. It is meant to insult and de..." He nearly said 'dehumanize,' but that wasn't quite accurate. "It was a word popular with dark wizards like Grindelwald and Voldemort who sought to turn the public against those with mixed blood or born of Muggles because they wished to demean, control, or eliminate them. I realize that you probably grew up hearing it used rather liberally in the Malfoy home, but it will not be tolerated with me. Understand?"

"Not really," she answered honestly. "But if you don't want me to say it, I won't."

"Thank you. Next I'll need the Acromantula venom. Bottom shelf on the right. Grab the Puffer-fish eyes while you're in there. You know where to find them."

"Yes, sir."

-0-0-0-

"Draco, I haven't had a drink in weeks. Can't you sneak something in for me? Wine, champagne, chardonnay? Hell, I'd even take cooking sherry. Slip it past this one. She's too dense to notice."

"No, Mother." Draco was sitting in his mother's room on Tuesday morning, waiting for Siobhan to finish her usual vitals and dressing change so they could speak candidly. His father had allegedly been spotted the day before but Aurors arrived after he'd disapparated.

"You did this on purpose, didn't you? You wanted to force me into sobriety so you had my throat cut, thus landing me here, where prisoners aren't allowed any vices regardless of how harmless they are. How could you do such a thing to me, Draco?" Narcissa flung one arm over her eyes and sighed melodramatically. "Your own mother! The woman who carried you inside her for nine long months! I nearly died giving birth to you, you know. I nearly died giving you life and you can't even be bothered to give me a teeny tiny ickle bitty bottle of wine to return the favor?" She lowered her arm to look at him piteously. "Where did I go so very wrong with you, my darling boy?"

"Your mother should have been an actress, Mr. Malfoy," said Siobhan, fluffing Narcissa's pillow to help her into a more comfortable sitting position. "Dense as I am, I've managed to work out that she's quite the drama queen."

Narcissa flipped off the mediwitch.

Draco laughed.

-0-0-0-

Life is not a Disney movie.

Hermione knew that all too well.

Though after having sat through a significant number of them since buying the television and VCR, she couldn't help thinking she had more than she wanted to in common with the characters.

She'd lost her parents, for starters. They were not dead, but might as well be, since they hadn't been her parents for over a decade now. This made her a bit like Sleeping Beauty, a princess whose parents were alive, but couldn't keep her with them because an evil sorceress threatened her safety. It also made her feel like the children in Bedknobs and Broomsticks, sent away from London during the war against the Nazis for their own safety. But Sleeping Beauty and those Bedknobs and Broomsticks kids would get to see their parents again once the danger was over. Hermione, like Cinderella and Snow White, would not.

Then, once the dragons had been slayed and the evil stepmothers had been defeated, Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella and Snow White all found true love with handsome princes and lived happily ever after.

Hermione wanted that, too.

Not the prince part. She didn't have any desire to be royalty - not even the Wizarding equivalent of royalty, which would mean marrying someone of old lineage and money like Malfoy or of fame and prestige like Harry Potter.

No, she didn't need that. She wanted a quieter life. A solid career. Healthy children.

"And that's it," she told herself. It was late Tuesday night. The children were asleep: Hero in her crib, Henry and Helena to either side of her in the bed. Aloud, she whispered, "Solid career, quiet life, healthy children. That's all I need."

Right?

Hermione sighed. She hugged Helena to her chest and breathed in the sweet coconut scent of her hair. Henry snored lightly, his feet tucked under his mother's bum. Soon the kids would be too big for them to all be sharing this one bed. Soon, she would have to think about the future.

Soon, she would have to stop lying to herself.

She didn't just want a quiet life, a solid career, and healthy children.

She also wanted true love and happily ever after.

She wanted to have it all.

But life is not a Disney movie.

-0-0-0-

"Why isn't Hermione Granger your girlfriend anymore?" Delphini handed Severus the Acromantula venom and placed the container of Puffer-fish eyes on the counter. "You didn't answer me the other day. Did she do something wrong so you had to beat her up?"

"Did I... what? No!" Trying not to be so distracted he ruined the potion, he carefully added the correct amount of Acromantula venom, gave it two counterclockwise stirs followed by three clockwise ones, then turned to her while he let it simmer. "That's ridiculous!"

"Then what happened?"

"Nothing... happened." He pushed his hair out of his eyes. It was getting too long. "Delphini, really, do I seem like the sort of man who would 'beat up' a woman for doing something wrong?"

Delphini shrugged. "My uncle says when I have a husband he'll have to put me in my place because I'm disobedient like my mother." She made a gesture like a backhanded slap. "He says I'm lucky I'm not betrothed to anyone already. He's right about that. I don't want to have a husband. Boys are gross. No offense."

"Whether you ever have a husband is up to you, but should any man ever try to put you in your place..." He copied the gesture. "He'll be answering to me. Understand?"

Delphini hopped up on the table, letting her legs swing. She was dressed, as usual, in a lace-lined velvet frock that was far too formal for a day of hanging around his home on Spinner's End, but since she only had fancy dresses, dress robes, and school uniforms to wear, she hadn't much choice. He had suggested taking her clothes shopping but she'd replied, "Great! I think I need my first bra. Do you think I'm ready for a bra? Auntie said not till I'm thirteen but I think I'm ready now. I'm practically a woman, you know!" and he'd quickly made up an excuse to leave the room, vowing to never bring up clothes shopping ever again.

"Why do you want to know about Ms. Granger?"

"Because. You seemed pretty upset to see her picture in the Prophet last week. Who was that man she was with?"

"Some dunderhead she knew at Hogwarts." He scowled. He'd been tempted to light the paper on fire last Monday upon seeing that awful picture of her with Ernie Macmillan's arms around her waist at a London restaurant. She'd moved on awfully quickly for a woman who'd been on her back in his bed moaning his name barely a week prior.

"She's... alright looking. The Prophet says she's smart, too. Do you love her?"

"Does it matter? She's with someone else now."

Delphini did not seem to realize it was supposed to be a rhetorical question. She pondered this and finally answered, "Yes, it matters. If you love her, you should go get her back. That man looked like a real prat. He had stupid hair. You're not a prat. Your hair isn't stupid. Maybe she went with him to make you jealous. Maybe she misses you like you miss her."

"What gives you the impression I miss her?" The hourglass indicated it was nearly time to move onto the next ingredient, the Puffer-fish eyes.

"Don't you?"

"Sometimes," he admitted, figuring it couldn't hurt to be honest. "But what does it matter? Like the Prophet reported, she's moved on. Why dwell?"

He'd spent enough time obsessing over and grieving the loss of Lily in his youth.

He wasn't going to spend the rest of his years heartbroken over Hermione.

-0-0-0-

It wasn't easy, but Hermione convinced Mrs. Feingold to babysit again.

"My family emergency, it was a sick relative," Hermione explained. "She's doing better but still at St. Mungo's."

"I wasn't aware that you have witches in your family. Or... that you have family."

"I... just have this one. This one family member. Who's a witch. Please, Mrs. Feingold, I'll only be gone a couple of hours. If you don't mind staying at my apartment for a couple of hours, I'll put a movie on for the children, and they'll be sufficiently distracted, they won't misbehave – _Henry_ won't misbehave – like last time. Please?"

"I suppose, since I'm not doing anything else," Mrs. Feingold sighed. She didn't tell Hermione, but she'd seen the Daily Prophet article the week before, with the picture of the younger witch wrapped in the arms of that Healer Macmillan, and suspected her "Family emergency" had been a code for "Lunch date." At least she wasn't pretending to have to be gone over night – that would be too much. The last thing the witch needed was to end up 'in trouble' again, with another mouth to feed.

"Oh, thank you!" cried Hermione. "Thank you, Mrs. Feingold!"

-0-0-0-

It was four-thirty Wednesday afternoon, time for the weekly staff meeting at Hogwarts. After they wrapped up new business, Fillius Flitwick asked if they could discuss Delphini Black.

"That petition is gathering more signatures. I've been asked multiple times to sign, first only by members of the Board of Governors, then by parents of students in my House. And every last one is also seeking additional information about her background and parentage. What are we telling them?"

"Tell them it's none of their damn business," replied Aurora Sinistra, Head of Slytherin and Astronomy professor. "Tell them to bugger off."

"Not sure that'll go over well," said Septima Vector, professor of Arithmancy and current head of Gryffindor. "Parents, in my experience, don't enjoy being told to 'bugger off.'"

"The poor girl–" began Sinistra, but Vector cut her off.

"The 'poor girl' used the Cruciatus Curse on a child in my House! The only reason you want to tell parents and Board members it's none of their damn business is because you don't want to have to admit you couldn't control your own student."

"Me? What about _your_ students? They ganged up on the girl, three on one, repeatedly! Perhaps if you spent more time paying attention to your bitchy little monsters and less time sneaking off the grounds to smoke elven herbs..."

"I hardly ever smoke those anymore!"

"Excuse me?" Minerva McGonagall's lips drew into a tight line. Vector quickly self-corrected.

"I meant, I no longer smoke... I mean... I... never! I _never_ smoked – oh, fuck off, Aurora."

"Ladies, please!" exclaimed Flitwick. Sinistra and Vector glared at each other across the table. The two of them had broken off a longtime relationship earlier in the year and apparently were still on rocky terms. This continuing tension was precisely the reason professors were supposed to refrain from dating each other. "We are discussing a student, not Septima's illegal elven herbs habit."

"I don't smoke..."

"Bullies can make a student's life miserable," Cho Chang-Zabini chimed in, interrupting Vector. "After that hex of Hermione Granger's ruined my friend Marietta's complexion, she was teased mercilessly. She had to keep her face covered for years before a cure was found. She nearly dropped out altogether over it."

"Such a shame," said Madam Hooch, shaking her head. "Children can be cruel."

"It's worth noting, Delphini Black's a talented witch," said Professor Rosier, Potions. "It would be in our best interest as a Wizarding community to cultivate her talents. I know we're less than two months in, but she's my best first year student since I started teaching. I suspect it's in her blood."

"Isn't _your_ blood in her blood?" asked Muggle Studies professor Winifred Winx, who, at twenty-one, was the youngest member on staff. "Wasn't her mother your cousin?"

"A distant cousin," said Rosier offhandedly. "What does that matter?"

"Are you supportive of her because she's a good student or because she's your cousin's daughter?"

"I don't think I like what you're insinuating, Winnie."

"Not _insinuating_. Just _saying_..."

"I think we should _all_ be supporting Delphini Black," said Neville Longbottom, jumping in before another catfight could break out. "The girl hasn't exactly had a great upbringing, has she, Minerva? She probably felt like it would be a relief, coming to Hogwarts, getting away from all that violence and tension, and then look what happened: bullied from the very beginning, all over what she couldn't help. I know what it's like to be a First Year and not have any friends. I know what it's like to grow up without parents. I know what it's like to feel out of place."

"How can you, of all people, defend her?" asked Terry Boot, Transfiguration. "After what happened to your parents?!"

"But Miss Black wasn't responsible for that!" squeaked Professor Flitwick. "That was the crime of her mother. She wasn't even born yet. We cannot blame children for the sins of their parents."

"I agree," said Professor Chang-Zabini, nodding vigorously. "Look no further than my husband. He was raised in a Voldemort-supporting household, same as Delphini, and he's opposed to all that now!"

There were hisses and gasps when she said "Voldemort." Though it had been a decade, many witches and wizards, especially those who'd lived through both wars, still couldn't stand to hear the Dark Lord called anything other than You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Even those who tried to remember to say it, like Minerva, had difficulty hearing it.

"It is not safe to name him," hissed Trelawney, magnified bug-eyes darting around as if he might jump out of a cabinet. "He could be anywhere."

Winnie Winx rolled her eyes. "He's dead, Sybill. Or do you see him returning again in your little magic ball?"

"You weren't there!" cried Trelawney. "You were born after the first war ended and started school after the second war was over! You have no idea what it was like!"

"I know Harry Potter defeated him ten years ago but some of you still talk like Lord bloody Voldemort was walking 'round the place yesterday," replied Winx. Again, the name earned gasps and jeers.

"Ignorant child!" shouted Trelawney, pointing a bony finger at her. "If you only knew what a terrible future I've seen, thanks to my inner eye..."

"To be fair," said Longbottom diplomatically, "You tell us your inner eye predicts he's going to come back every year."

"That's because I have a Second Sight!"

"It's because you're barmy," said Hooch. "Your inner eye needs glasses."

Professor Sinistra, not a fan of Trelawney's, sniggered. Professor Vector shot daggers at her with her eyes and rubbed Sybill's arm comfortingly.

"Let's be civil," scolded McGonagall. Winx and Hooch apologized; Sinistra did not. "Tiberius, any thoughts?"

"I haven't got an opinion, to be honest," said Tiberius Brooks, a gruff former Hufflepuff in his mid-sixties who'd taken over Ancient Runes when Bathsheda Babbling retired five years ago. "I haven't met the girl, don't remember her from her sorting, and never met her mother. Her father seems like an alright bloke, though. Spent a bit of time with him at the convalescent center when my wife was was a volunteer. You've been working here a long time, Madam Hooch. Sybill's 'inner eye' aside, what do you think?"

"I don't know what to think," admitted the flying instructor. "You know I was in favor of accepting her to Hogwarts even when the Board wanted to bar her from attending, I was one of the first to say we should give her a chance, and I _do_ sympathize with her plight, but... but on the other hand, the girl used the _Cruciatus_ Curse! Neville, surely that means something to you."

"Yes," he said, feeling guilty for the difficulty he'd had interacting with her all term thus far, wishing he'd reached out instead. "It means we may have to work even harder to mold and educate her than we might some of the other students. It means we should embrace her and guide her and protect her. It means we should do all we can to keep her here at school. That's what I want and I think..." He swallowed hard. "I think that's what my mum and dad would want, too."

"Harry Potter'd say the same," said Hagrid, who'd been silent up until this point. Longbottom nodded at him.

"Let's take a vote, then," said the Headmistress. "It is imperative that we present a united front as educators, both to parents and to the Board, so whatever majority decides goes. All those in favor of supporting Delphini Black's return to Hogwarts in January?"

The hands of Longbottom, Flitwick, Hagrid, Sinistra, Rosier, and Chang-Zabini went up, as did that of Minerva.

"All opposed?"

Vector, Boot, Trelawney, Winx, and an apologetic looking Madam Hooch raised their hands.

"Tiberius?" asked Minerva. The gruff older man shrugged.

"Told you, I haven't got an opinion one way or the other. You don't need me, though. You've got the majority."

"Very well, then," said Minerva. "That's seven for, five against, and one abstaining. This means we are in favor of readmitting the girl in January. Now, let's work on what to say to parents and Board members..."

-0-0-0-

Hermione did not Floo to Severus' house, figuring she might not be welcome. She instead apparated to a wooded area on the other side of a stream off the cobblestone road that led to his home and walked, feeling sicker with anxiety with every step. She'd asked for space over two weeks ago and she'd gotten it...

She'd gotten more space than she knew what to do with.

And she hated it.

-0-0-0-

He was growing impatient. He was not cut out for keeping prisoners. He was no criminal mastermind, not really. He was running out of time, out of options, and out of ideas.

He sipped from his mug and reread last Monday's Daily Prophet, dripping tea onto the page.

There was a picture of Hermione Granger, caught in the arms of Ernie Macmillan.

The article read:

 _Hermione Granger, 29, semi-reclusive war heroine and twice divorced mother of three, was rumored to have been dating former Hogwarts Headmaster Severus Snape, 48, also a recluse and war hero, but it is believed they have recently split._

 _Could it have been the news that the ex-professor has a child with murderous Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange that broke up the couple? Lestrange was famously halted from her Final Battle killing spree by Molly Weasley, mother of Granger's first husband Ronald Weasley._

 _"Wouldn't surprise me at all if she dumped Snape for having a secret daughter," said a former classmate and friend of Granger's who spoke on the promise of anonymity. "Hermione Granger always valued honesty and morality. I can't imagine she'd be keen to stay with any man who'd keep a bastard child hidden away, and considering the girl's mother is the woman who so viciously tortured Hermione during the war, it's no surprise she'd want to escape the reminder."_

 _This friend is, of course, referring to the Muggle-born slur forever etched into Granger's skin, which was on full view during the Wizengamot trial of Lucius Malfoy post-war. Granger testified against the Malfoy patriarch, expressing her belief that some supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named cannot be redeemed and therefore should not be free. Despite her impassioned testimony, Malfoy was permitted to escape further time in Azkaban by identifying a number of his former fellow Death Eaters._

 _As this paper reported previously, a scuffle broke out between Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape in Hogsmeade several weeks ago. At the time, speculation led witnesses to believe the altercation between the men had something to do with their shared history as Death Eaters and the reality that they'd been on opposing sides, but given Granger's alleged relationship with Snape and her testimony against Malfoy, the uncle-by-marriage of Snape and Lestrange's daughter, perhaps something more nefarious was behind the battle._

 _Another source close to the situation who also spoke to us under the promise of anonymity said, "It's no surprise Snape was reluctant to claim the girl, given who her mother was. It calls into question his loyalties – how could he be the man Harry Potter says he was, an undercover spy working for the Order because of his unwavering devotion to Lily Potter? - if he was_ _also engaged in a torrid secret love affair with devout supremacist Bellatrix Lestrange. I imagine he wouldn't want the news getting out, all things considered, especially if it cost him his good-looking young girlfriend. Bet he's also regretting claiming the kid now."_

 _According to Granger's first ex-husband Ronald Weasley, to whom we reached out for comment, "Things weren't serious with Snape anyway. She was working for him, brewing potions. I mean, the man used to be our professor. I really can't picture them together. It was probably a momentary lapse in judgment on her part, or maybe she was lonely while waiting for someone better. Either way, I'm glad she's moved on. I wish her the best."_

 _A third anonymous source, who happened to be dining at Magical Mungo's in London and was seated not far from Granger and Macmillan, told our reporter, "They seemed friendly. He did most of the talking. She smiled a lot. They'd make a handsome couple. If it's true she was dating Snape, I can see why she'd jump at the opportunity to move up, find someone well-liked and established, a man without the physical and emotional scars of the war, who's closer to her own age. I could see them married someday. Mr. and Mrs. Macmillan. It just makes sense."_

 _Was it the leaked existence and identity of Severus Snape's Cruciatus-cursing love child that broke up the couple? Or was Hermione Granger simply using the reclusive potions master until someone better came along? Will Ernie Macmillan end up being Granger husband #3? Does Severus Snape regret publicly claiming Delphini Black as his own?_

 _Only time will tell._

The man set down his tea. Hermione with Severus Snape? Hermione with Ernie Macmillan? None of this was supposed to be happening. He'd waited too long to enact his revenge, that was the long and short of it. Now he was paying the price.

Did that mean the plan could no longer work?

Only time would tell.

-0-0-0-

She reached the last house on Spinner's End. His. It looked the same as it had the last time she'd been outside it, which made sense, but at the same time she'd somehow felt it would look... different. Emptier, maybe.

Hermione took a deep breath, mustered up her inner Gryffindor, and knocked.

-0-0-0-

He answered.

-0-0-0-

"Hello, Severus. Could I come in?"

He cocked one eyebrow.

"Well. This is certainly a surprise."

Raised brow aside, his face was completely expressionless. It was unnerving. She asked again if she could come in, then fiddled with the fabric of her wool skirt as she awaited his response. She was just starting to think he'd never speak, that they would stand there staring at each other through sunset, when he finally answered.

"I don't think so. No."

"N-no?" Her stomach flip-flopped. He wasn't supposed to say no!

"You see, my home is rather _small._ You may find it does not provide sufficient _space_."

She sighed, fighting back the tears already starting to form. "Please? Severus, I think we should talk."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ms. Granger, but I'm afraid we have nothing to say to each other."

He closed the door.

-0-0-0-

"Who was that?" Delphini's voice made him jump. She was sitting at the top of the stairs with a book in her lap. It was her afternoon free time. "Professor? Who was at the door?"

"Muggle magazine salesgirl," he answered gruffly. "I am going into the cellar to brew. I am not to be disturbed before six unless the house is on fire. That said, under no circumstances are you permitted to light the house on fire. Understand?"

Without giving her a moment to reply he stalked across the hall to the stairs that led down to his lab, slamming the door behind him.

She set down her book and crept quietly down the stairs.

Muggle magazine salesgirl?

She didn't need to read minds to know he was lying.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Three things I wanted to note -

1\. I invented Elven Herbs for my fic Wanting Narcissa. It's basically magical marijuana, which is why Minerva isn't pleased to know Vector is sneaking off to smoke it.

2\. I figure Binns doesn't have to attend staff meetings. One of the perks of being dead, right?

3\. I'm sorry about the ending of this (mostly transitional) chapter. The next one is more fun, I promise! :)

- **AL**


	45. To Be a Liar

**CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE**

 **Doubt truth to be a liar...**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Hermione slumped against the door, her back to the cool dark wood, and sank slowly to the front step, sobbing.

"You really made a mess of things, Hermione," she scolded herself in an angry whisper. "You'll be lucky if he ever speaks to you again!"

How had this happened?

It all seemed almost... surreal.

If anyone had told her six months ago she'd someday soon find herself heartbroken and crying on the doorstep of her sullen, brooding, borderline-cruel former teacher-turned-lover, she'd have had that person checked into St. Mungo's for a mental evaluation. But here she was, devastated and full of self-blame, wondering if she'd ever again find herself in his arms, depressed by the thought she'd have to tell her kids they'd visited him for the last time, and wanting nothing more than to go back in time to her request for 'space' and handle the entire situation completely differently.

Yes, it seemed surreal.

It couldn't truly be too late for them, could it?

-0-0-0-

They were laughing.

They were drunk.

They bet him 100 galleons he couldn't get stuck-up, insufferable, not-yet-divorced Hermione Granger to go out with him.

"She says no to everyone!"

"She's locked up tighter than Azkaban!"

"She's so frigid you need a hat and scarf to enter her office!"

"You're being ridiculous," he'd said, slurring his words slightly thanks to the whiskey. "She's a woman and she wants to be wooed, that's all."

The other men from the Ministry laughed at that until tears were streaming freely down their faces.

"100 galleons says you can't even get her to consent to dinner with you!"

When she did, and he went to collect, they upped it to 1000.

"1000 galleons says you can't get her into bed!"

When he did, and he went to collect, they upped it to 5000.

"5000 galleons you can't get her to fall in love with you!"

When he did, and went to collect, they paid up - they grumbled and complained, but they paid up.

Two nights later, one of them stopped by his office, to have a chat 'just between friends.' (Not that they were friends. Far from it.) He had a proposition.

"You want me to what?"

"You heard me. I'll bet you another 15000 galleons you can't get that frigid witch to agree to marry you."

"But... why?" he'd asked. It seemed a strange bet. The others were made in the hall, in a crowd, over strong whiskey. This seemed... personal.

He should have said no. He should have said such a bet was absurd.

But 15000 galleons was a lot of money.

It was a lot of money for most men, save, perhaps, for the one offering it, and it was certainly a lot of money to a man with a gambling problem, with a vast amount of debt, a man who just gave the 5000 he'd collected days earlier to a wizard who'd threatened to break every bone in his arms if he didn't pay what he owed.

It didn't seem like a bad deal, really.

He genuinely liked her. He might even love her. She wasn't so insufferable or stuck up or frigid once you got to know her.

She was smart and, outside of the office, she was damn sexy. They had a lot in common.

She was better than he'd expected in bed.

What harm could it do? She'd marry him, giving him the companionship he'd been missing out on since his first marriage ended. Maybe they would even have children - he longed to have a family again, as his own fell apart when he was still a teenager - and once his debts were paid he'd have nearly 10000 galleons left for them to use to start their lives together.

It might mean a whole new world for him.

He could give up gambling. Spend his evenings not at the Knockturn Alley betting parlor, but at home, content in the embrace of a good woman.

Why not?

They were both bright. They made an attractive couple. Surely they would have bright, attractive children.

But how to get her to agree to marriage? She was adamant she'd never do that again, considering the way her first one crumbled.

How could he convince her to take a chance?

How could he make her understand that doing so would be for the best... for both of them?

-0-0-0-

Over a month ago, when Hermione and Severus were still at the 'stopping just short of sex while pretending oral sex isn't also sex' stage, they'd had a discussion about her working for him.

"I can't be your employee if we're going to be spending our entire work sessions fooling around," she'd said. "If you're paying me and I'm spending the time you're paying me for doing... doing non-work, then it's as if what I'm doing is work, which is immmoral and wrong. You know?"

"If we spend your entire work session pleasuring each other it's as if you're being paid for us to spend the time pleasuring each other?"

She nodded. "Yes, that's exactly it. So you understand why we need to work during work time and..."

"You're fired."

"I'm fired?" This was not what she'd been expecting, nor what she'd been hoping for. "You're firing me?"

"Yes."

Her cinnamon brown eyes blinked slowly, as if she were in shock. "What now?"

"Now?" A sly grin spread across his face. "Now you can come upstairs with me."

She folded her arms and leaned against the bookshelf line wall of his sitting room. "So we can go to bed together?"

"Yes." He placed his hands on her small waist, trying to pull her to him, but she wouldn't budge. "You are no longer my employee; what's stopping us?"

"I don't know if I can get in the mood now," she said, an exaggerated pout on her face. "You see, I've just been fired."

"Don't worry." He brushed her hair away from her neck and placed a trail of kisses from her bare shoulder up to her jawbone. "I have it on good authority that your boss will be happy to hire you back in… fifteen minutes?"

"Fifteen minutes?" She tried to look scandalized. "Absolutely not!"

"No?" He appeared hurt.

"No!" Hermione insisted, hiding a smile. "Fifteen minutes? Please. Make it a half hour."

"A half hour?" His sly grin returned.

"At least!"

"Very well, then." He wrapped his slim fingers around her slender wrist and bourght it to his lips, to kiss the place where he could feel her pulse. "Let's go upstairs."

-0-0-0-

Helena Kate Granger missed the old Mummy.

Old Mummy didn't seem so grumpy all the time and she didn't spank Henry or tell Helena "go watch your movie" when she wanted to chat.

Old Mummy didn't stare into the refrigerator with a look of despair asking herself aloud, "What could we possibly eat for dinner?"

Old Mummy didn't cry in the sitting room in the dark at night when she thought the little ones were all asleep.

No, that wasn't the stuff Old Mummy did.

Old Mummy hosted tea parties and ran around at the playground and used funny voices when she read goodnight stories.

Old Mummy cooked and baked and let her children help out in the kitchen and didn't get mad when they made a mess.

Old Mummy took them shopping and made it fun even when they didn't have enough money to buy much of anything.

Helena was happy when Professor Snape started spending more time with the little Granger family. She liked him well enough, sure, but not as much as Henry did. What Helena liked best was that when Professor Snape was around, Mummy became more like Old Mummy.

She laughed and played and read books and went shopping and sang the ABCs song so Henry and Hero could learn to read like she taught Helena.

Professor Snape brought Old Mummy back.

But now Professor Snape was gone.

And Mummy was grumpy. And she was tired. And she cried and she stared into the fridge and she didn't want to play.

Helena wished Professor Snape would come back.

She wished she could have Old Mummy again.

-0-0-0-

One minute passed.

Then, another.

Hermione could not stop the tears, nor could she will herself to get up and go home.

She could not give up hope.

A third minute.

A fourth.

She had to get him to let her in. She had to make him listen.

Even if she couldn't make him forgive her, she had to get herself together enough to try.

A fifth minute.

A sixth.

A creak.

The door was opening!

Hermione leapt to her feet while wiping her eyes, apology already on her lips, but rather than looking into the pale face and impossibly dark eyes of Severus Snape, she was looking at the equally pale face and impossibly dark eyes of Delphini Black.

"What... what are you doing here?" asked Hermione, shocked out of her sobs. Narcissa had said Severus had kept the girl from school expulsion but hadn't mentioned he had also taken her in. Hermione had just assumed Delphini had been sent to stay with Draco while her aunt recovered.

"You're supposed to start a conversation by introducing yourself," replied Delphini, as unnervingly expressionless as Severus had been. "Good manners are a mark of good breeding."

"Sorry. I'm Hermione." Hermione managed to compose herself, drying away the last of her tears with the edge of her sleeves. She put out her hand. "Hermione Granger."

"Delphini Black." The girl shook it. "Severus Snape is my father."

"I know."

"You used to be his girlfriend."

"I know."

"You left him and made him sad."

Hermione sniffled. "I know."

"My aunt is Narcissa Malfoy. She doesn't like mixed witches much but she says I'm not allowed to say Mudblood anymore because it might offend you. Can I see your arm?"

"I... my...?" Hermione was momentarily thrown. For a girl who scolded others about manners and breeding, Delphini was, at best, extremely socially awkward. She reminded Hermione a little of Luna. "You want to see the word in my arm?"

"Yes."

Hermione drew back the sleeve of her jumper, revealing the scrawled red letters to the girl. Delphini leaned close to examine them.

"My mum did that?"

"Yes."

"Did it hurt?"

"Very much."

"Did you cry? Tell the truth."

"Yes, I did. Until I passed out."

"Hm." Delphini traced her fingertip over the M. "Her handwriting was not very good."

"No, I suppose it wasn't." Hermione pulled her sleeve back down.

"Is that why you left my father? Because of me? Because my mother did that to you? That's what the Daily Prophet thinks."

"The Daily Prophet is wrong," Hermione assured the girl. "I knew about you long before I left and your existence had absolutely nothing to do with why. Has the Prophet been speculating about our relationship?"

"Don't you read it?"

"Not anymore, no."

Delphini stepped outside, leaving the door open a crack, and sat on the top step, arranging her skirt carefully over her knees. She was wearing her Hogwarts uniform minus the vest and robe. Hermione settled beside her, fixing her own wool skirt.

"The Daily Prophet says my mother tortured you. They said she carved that word into your arm and used the Cruciatus Curse on you until you went unconscious, then she put a knife to your throat and threatened to kill you."

"That's all true."

"Oh." Delphini stared at her hands. "Sorry."

"You don't have any reason to be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I _did_ do something wrong. I used the Cruciatus Curse on a girl at school. That's why I'm here. She didn't go unconscious, but they kicked me out."

Hermione stifled a gasp. How did an eleven-year-old know how to perform an Unforgivable Curse? What would possess her to do so? Was the other student alright? Narcissa had said she was facing expulsion for improper use of magic, but Hermione was picturing something more along the lines of Levicorpus, or, at worst, something like the Sectumsempra Harry once used on Draco. Not an _Unforgivable_ Curse!

"Professor Snape got them to agree to take me back in January, but I guess some parents are mad about it," continued Delphini with a one-shouldered shrug. "They don't want me there. Nobody does. Nobody wants me anywhere. Professor Snape took me because my aunt is in St. Mungo's. He's being nice about it but I know he doesn't want me either. Who would? My mother was... bad." It pained Delphini to admit this, as her aunt had let her believe otherwise her entire life. "My mother was bad so everyone thinks I'm bad too."

Hermione was surprised when the girl leaned against her, pressing her upper arm and shoulder to Hermione's, as if seeking comfort even though they were strangers.

"You are _not_ bad. And your mother was..." Hermione paused. She wanted to say something nice about Bellatrix, but she also didn't want to lie, and nothing that was both nice and not a lie came to mind. She switched gears. "I have known Professor Snape for a very long time, Delphini. Since I was your age. And I don't think he would take you in if he didn't want to. He wants to be a decent father to you. He regrets all the time he lost when you were younger. He's a good person."

"If he's so good, why'd you break it off with him? He keeps an old picture of you from the Prophet in his room. I saw it one day when I was snooping... I mean, uh..." Delphini's cheeks went pink. She immediately worked to clear her mind, as he'd been teaching her. "I was doing my chores exactly the way I'm supposed to when I found it."

"I made a mistake." Hermione felt that familiar tingle in her nose again, the one that indicated she might cry. "I'd like to ask him to forgive me, but..."

"Ask him, then." Delphini stood and stretched, then reached a hand down to help Hermione to her feet. "He's in the cellar, brewing. If you want to tell him you're sorry, just go tell him."

"It's not that simple. He doesn't want to see me. He said we have nothing to talk about." Hermione cleared her throat, realizing how silly it was to be opening up about this to a child - _Severus' child,_ no less. She wiped away a stray tear. "If you don't mind, I think I'll stay out here awhile, in case he changes his mind."

"That's stupid. If you want to talk to him, go talk. If you don't, go home. Either way, I don't care." Delphini sneered, disgusted by Hermione's passiveness. This was the famous heroine who keep Harry Potter alive? The one who broke into Gringotts pretending to be Delphini's mother? This was the girl who received more O.W.L.s than any student since Minerva McGonagall, only one less than Dumbledore himself? This was the brains of the Golden Trio, this weak crybaby woman who couldn't even muster up the courage for a conversation? What a disappointment.

"Thank you for the chat," Hermione began awkwardly. "Perhaps..."

"I just wanted to see your arm," Delphini interrupted. "Now I'm going to my room. I don't much care where you go."

She headed back inside.

But she left the front door wide open.

Which seemed... purposeful.

-0-0-0-

"I think we'll be able to move you this weekend, Mrs. Malfoy!" Siobhan finished marking Narcissa's vitals with a flourish. "You're doing well."

"Will I be able to have visitors in the convalescent center?"

"You mean like your son and niece, or do you mean like your secret boyfriend?"

"Do not call him my 'secret boyfriend,' Siobhan." Narcissa swung her legs over the side of the bed and slid onto the floor. She was increasing her amount of standing time by a considerable amount with each day, now that she could do it without fainting. "I am fifty-three years old. Far too old for a 'boyfriend,' secret or otherwise."

"What would you prefer I call him?" asked the mediwitch, who was watching carefully as Narcissa made her way slowly from the bed to an easy chair they'd placed in her room a few days prior. "Your young, handsome, covert Bulgarian lover?"

"Call him my future husband," Narcissa joked. "If enough time passes without any sign of Lucius, I think I can have him legally declared dead, freeing me up to marry again."

"Would you want to marry again?" Siobhan sounded surprised. She hadn't known Narcissa Black Malfoy long, but she'd gotten the impression the woman saw marriage as a prison, a hell one enters into contractually as punishment for being female, and subsequently waits a lifetime to escape.

"I don't know why," said Narcissa, slowly sinking into the chair. "But he's wild about me. No one has ever been wild about me. If I have to marry him to avoid losing him, I would. I don't mind that he's rubbish in bed so long as he continues to spend our time together telling me how badly he wants me. As he writes in his letters. I've never had that before. No one's ever _wanted_ me like that."

"Don't be ridiculous!" The mediwitch handed Narcissa her mug of tea, which had been on the table beside her bed. "I'd be willing to bet countless men - and women - have wanted you over the years. They simply don't express it because they know you're married."

"Men and women?" Narcissa chuckled. "Men and one woman, perhaps."

"Well..." Siobhan tried to hide the blush creeping into her cheeks. "At least one woman, yes."

"I don't see why you fancy me so. I'm irritable, spoiled, snobbish, cold-hearted, and a former follower of the Dark Lord."

"The first four traits I find endearing, and the fifth I'm choosing not to hold against you."

"Viktor isn't holding it against me either." Narcissa sipped her tea thoughtfully. "He thinks I must have been very brave to have lied in the face of the Dark Lord about Harry Potter being dead. Little does he know, the hard part was actually lying in the face of my sister. He thinks that act alone was enough to absolve me of any guilt. Thankfully the Wizengamot was swayed to think the same a decade ago."

"You seem as wild about him as he is about you." Siobhan flicked the wrist of her wand hand, prompting Narcissa's bedding to change itself.

"I am. He's too young for me, his English isn't perfect, and he needs a few lessons in love-making, but Siobhan..." Narcissa couldn't keep the smile off her face, cool as she tried to play it. Not only was she truly falling in love for the first time, but she was happy to have another woman to confide in, something she'd been lacking since her sister's death. "Siobhan? He's wonderful."

"Yes, yes, I know, wonderful." said Siobhan, a teasing glint in her eye. "But if it doesn't work out with him, you can always send me an owl..."

-0-0-0-

After a brief hesitation, during which she wondered whether Delphini's oddness and rudeness were more the result of nature or nurture, Hermione took a deep breath, steeled herself, and entered, closing the door carefully behind her. She went to the cellar. That door was closed. Locked.

"Alohomora," she whispered, tapping it with her wand. She turned the knob. It worked.

She headed slowly down the stairs, that ball of anxiety in the pit of her stomach growing ever larger with each step. She made it to the bottom. His back was to her. He was stirring the contents of a cauldron over a cold blue fire.

"Severus?" she said softly, tears forming in the corners of her eyes again. "Severus, I know you don't want to talk to me, but I desperately want to talk to you."

He set down the ladle with which he'd been stirring but did not turn to face her.

"Then talk."

-0-0-0-

Mrs. Feingold was sitting at Hermione's kitchen table, drinking tea, when someone knocked on the door. She glanced at the children. Henry was fully engrossed in the movie on the telly, whereas Helena had her nose in a book. Hero was still napping.

Mrs. Feingold opened the door. There stood a man with long, scraggly blond hair, a beard, and red-rimmed tired eyes.

"Hello, ma'am. I'm looking for the lady of the house, a Ms. Granger?"

"She's not here." Mrs. Feingold looked him over with suspicion. What could this derelict need from Hermione? "I'm the sitter."

He tried to see inside the home, but Mrs. Feingold was blocking the way.

No, this would not do.

He needed one of the children to come to the door. Just one. Just long enough to move the wand hidden in his pocket and use the familiar incantation to put a trace... He cleared his throat.

"Could I come in and wait for her, please, ma'am? I have been asked to deliver a message. An important message. Has to be delivered to her directly, and my master will be most unhappy if I fail in my task."

"Your master?" Her stomach twisted. She recognized this man now. She'd seen pictures of him in the Prophet countless times! Of course, he'd never been photographed with so much as a hint of stubble or wearing shabby, filthy robes, and he'd definitely lost weight. Somehow knowing his identity made her feel more uneasy, not less.

"No, I'm sorry." She tried to close the door but he stuck his foot in the way. He had to complete his task. Failure was not an option. The voice in his head gave him instructions, instructions he tried to fight, but the pull to obey was too strong.

"I have a message, ma'am." He pushed past her, into the home. She grabbed for his arm, but he shoved her away. He pointed the wand at the back of Henry's head and muttered the words he'd been ordered to say.

Then, his chest deflated with an innate sense of relief.

His task was done.

He could return to his master.

But... he didn't want to.

He didn't want to...

He didn't want to...

-0-0-0-

"I think you should know why I left."

"Let me guess." Severus dumped diced lacewing flies into the cauldron, causing a quickly dissipating rise of steam. "You thought we were becoming too close. You panicked, afraid that I was going to expect you to be the housewife Ronald Weasley and Reginald Park wanted you to be. Rather than talk to me about it, you treated me badly for an entire day then informed me you needed space, left my home with your children, and did not contact me again for the next two and a half weeks while you tried to sort yourself out, leaving me to wonder whether you'd ever return. Am I close?"

Her expression told him he'd hit it head on.

"The part I have not yet pieced together is why you thought dating that dunderhead Macmillan would be anything short of a terrible idea." He waved his wand and the newspaper hovered over from atop his desk. He tossed it down on the table behind him, expecting her to pick it up. (She didn't.) His attention returned to the contents of his cauldron. "Or did you enjoy posing for the Prophet with the 'hero Healer?'"

"You're angry."

"Look at that!" Severus glanced at her over his shoulder. "She truly is the brightest witch of her age."

"You're not being very nice." She was torn between hurt, anger, and the feeling she deserved this cold treatment from him. She'd expected their first post-hiatus conversation to be difficult, but hadn't counted on his outright hostility.

"Do I owe you pleasantries?" He stirred the concoction, waiting for it to turn from dark blue to pale lilac. She crossed her arms but did not speak. When the potion changed to the desired hue, he finally turned to face her. "So. Did you fuck him?"

"Are you serious?"

"It's a fair question."

"Is it?"

He stalked over to her, towering over her, making her feel small. He snatched up the paper and opened it to the picture of herself with Ernie Macmillan, which she hadn't yet seen.

"You seem bothered by the question, but yes, I think it's a fair one. I deserve to know."

"You have no more reason to believe I spent our break having sex with someone else than I have reason to believe you did."

"Oh, no? I'm not the one going about London being photographed in the arms of another like some common bint."

Unwilling to let herself be intimidated, she straightened her back and stared into his eyes. "I understand that you're angry, but I'll not let you mistreat me or speak to me in that way."

His eyes narrowed, prompting her breath to hitch in her throat.

"Tell me, Ms. Granger," Severus hissed, utilizing his classroom voice, the one he'd usually reserve for asking questions of students he knew would be unable to answer them. "Did you fuck him because you _desired_ him, or did the act set him back ten galleons an hour?"

 _Slap._

Severus backed away, fingers lightly touched to his cheek, which was bright pink with the imprint from her hand. He folded the paper and set it down gently before returning to his cauldron to check the status of the bubbling potion within. Hermione was positively shaking with fury but neither of her hands went to her wand, as he might have expected. Severus ran his fingers through his hair and pretended he couldn't sense the pain he'd just caused her.

"You may show yourself out."

"Fine! Have it your way you... you... you heartless bastard!" Hermione hurried up the stairs, prepared to take her leave, ready to give up... She slammed the cellar door and stalked toward the one that led outside... but when she reached it, she paused. Her heart was pounding in her chest and in her ears. Her hands still shook with hurt and anger. She wanted to curse him, to hit him again, to scream, to cry... she wanted to beg him to listen...

"No," she said aloud. She took several deep breaths, willing herself to remain calm and in control, then turned and walked purposefully right back to the cellar door, which opened without her wand, and made her way back down. She stood behind him, hands on her hips, and repeated the word.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I said no, Severus. I'm not leaving. I am not leaving this spot until you and I talk about what happened."

He glanced at her as just a flicker of surprise crossed his face. How was she not storming off right now, vowing to never speak to him again? The fact that she'd come back after what he'd said almost made him want to take her in his arms and kiss her lips and beg her never to leave him like that again... but pride would not permit him to so lower himself, thus he responded as disinterestedly as he could manage, with a raised brow and a half-hearted shrug.

"Stand there if you'd like, then. But be quiet. I have time sensitive work to do."

"You work then," she said stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest. "And when you're through, you'll talk to me."

He grunted and returned his attention to the cauldron before him. She uncrossed her arms to massage the sore palm of her offending hand with her opposite thumb and tried not to think about how they'd had sex - great sex - against that very table only a matter of weeks ago. She wondered if he was using Legilimency on her because when she pictured him as he'd been that day (behind her, thrusting into her, kissing her neck) he took in a sharp breath and his shoulders tensed. But he neither acknowledged her continued presence nor addressed her. Eventually he had to go into the storage cupboard for another ingredient.

Upon his return to the table, he glanced briefly in her direction.

"Still here?" He swirled the contents of a vial and added several droplets to the cauldron. "Planning your next attack?"

"I'm sorry I hit you," she said softly. "I really am."

"Don't be." He scowled. "I deserved it. I only said what I did to be cruel."

"Good job then." A twinge of devastation embedded itself in her voice. "Because it was. Quite."

"Does it lessen the emotional blow to know my face really does hurt? I suppose I should be thankful you only slapped me. If memory serves, you once punched my godson in the jaw and did him considerably more damage than you've done me."

"You knew about me punching Draco? He told you?"

"He told his mother. His mother told me. She wanted you punished. Secretly, I felt he deserved it. As I deserved that."

"No one deserves to be hit, Severus. Not even a mean old git like you."

"You hurt me."

"I know." She sighed, rubbing her stinging palm. "I didn't mean to do it quite so hard. I just... reacted."

"No, I mean, I was hurt when you left." If she was going to refuse to leave him alone until they talked, he supposed he might as well give in and get this over with. "It is difficult for me to fully and accurately articulate how painful that was for me, and had I not had to defend and take custody of my daughter mere hours later, I might have fallen apart completely. It reminded me of losing Lily. I felt as though my weak and damaged heart, which had been slowly repairing itself with each day I spent with you and children, had been ripped most unceremoniously from my chest, thrown to the ground, and set on fire. And I had no idea why."

She stared intently at the floor as her nose twitched. She sniffled. She'd been so consumed by her own pain and confusion, she'd failed to fully consider his.

"I am not telling you this to make you feel guilty. But I think you should know why we cannot see each other anymore. Assuming you're here to tell me you're sorry and wish to reconcile. If that's not why you're here... forget I said it."

She felt those pesky tears forming again. "Why can't we see each other anymore? We had a fight. Couples fight. It happens."

"We did not have a fight, Hermione." He summoned over the next necessary ingredient and added it slowly to the contents of the cauldron. "You told me, quite surprisingly, that you needed space. You departed without further explanation. You left me to wonder whether we were over, or taking a break, or whether I'd see you in a day or two. You left me wondering what I'd done to deserve losing you, as I spent the first week certain the fault lay entirely with me, until I began to piece together your words and actions leading up to it and realized it may have been fear that drove you away."

"But..." She wanted to point out that HE was the one who departed. She would've been willing to stay and talk it out.

He would not let her interject.

"It was not a fight; it was a blindsiding. And it brought me to a realization about us. Either we are together or we are not. There can be no in-between. Understand, I am not begging commitment from you. I am not going to pressure you into what you do not want. And if we are together, there is no forever requirement attached. But I cannot be for you what I was for Lily for the first several years we were at Hogwarts: there when you need me, and pining, alone, and depressed when you don't. I cannot make myself vulnerable and... and open to... to something more, only to have it taken cruelly away without warning. I did not miss you alone, for what it's worth. I also missed the children."

"They missed you, too," she whispered. Her stomach hurt with how badly she wanted him to forgive her, how badly she wanted him to take her back, but she would not beg him. She would present her side, once he permitted her to do so, and hope for a reconciliation, but she refused to beg.

"Hermione, as a small boy I wanted nothing more than a family, a real, happy, loving family, and though I abandoned that hope long ago, for the first time in my life I thought I might have that - because of you. Then, abruptly, I lost it. I've realized now if I want a family I can make my own – I have a daughter to consider – but as much as I'd like that with you I learned I cannot rely on you, not if there's a chance you'll simply change your mind and up and leave."

"It's not like that," she said pleadingly. "Please, let me explain. I should have explained then, you're right. And you don't owe me anything, that's true. But I care about you and I know you care about me and I'm asking you, please, to let me explain now."

He lifted his longest spoon, stuck it in the center of the cauldron, and began to stir.

"Very well," he said after four clockwise turns. His stomach hurt with how badly he wanted to forgive her, how badly he wanted to take her back, but he would not give in so easily. Not when it might mean setting himself up for further pain. "Explain."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Sorry to cut off here. The chapter was like 10,000 words long which is pretty much the length of a Scholastic chapter book! What can I say? Reconciliation isn't easy! lol. Anyway, Severus is kind of a huge jerk in this one but I hope you'll forgive him. Also, I noticed that several reviewers really don't like Hermione... oh, no! I will try to work on making her easier to relate to. I imagine it's tough to root for a couple when one half of them doesn't appeal to you (this is why I can't handle Ron/Hermione stories even when they're well written. I can't stand Ron!). Thanks for sticking with this story! I love reading your reviews, especially the guesses and questions I can't answer yet. :)

 **-AL**


	46. But Never Doubt (I Love)

**CHAPTER FORTY-SIX**

 **But never doubt I love.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Delphini Druella Black (Snape) had few memories of her mother, and most of those were from dreams, dreams she couldn't be sure had come from real memories at all.

But her one clear memory, the one she was sure she wasn't confused about, was of the time her mother threw fire across a lake from the palms of her hands.

They were on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Delphini was bundled up. There was no snow on the trees but it didn't quite feel like spring either. Her mother was wearing a floor-length black dress with sleeves that went to her middle fingertips in an upside down V. It had cutouts in the shoulders and a low top with a tight bodice. Whenever Delphini mentally pictured her mother, it was in that dress because that was the only one she could clearly see in her mind's eye.

Her mother's eyes were dark and tired. Her hair was curly and wild. Her nails were long but the polish was chipped.

In Delphini's memory, she was beautiful.

Delphini was in her crib, standing, holding onto the side when her mother entered their shared room.

Her mother picked her up.

Her mother carried her outside.

She was little.

She knew now that she couldn't have been older than fourteen months old, as her mother died two weeks before she would be fifteen months, but she couldn't narrow down her age more than that.

The colors in her memory were distorted. She could see black and white and all shades of grey, but she couldn't recall whether the grass had been green, or whether her mother's lips had been red, or whether the sky had been blue.

She could, however, recall the intriguing inky blackness of the lake.

Her mother held her on her hip, looking out at the lake, her hand positioned on baby Delphini's pudgy thigh. Bellatrix sniffled. She'd been crying. Even at under a year and a half old, Delphini was able to recognize that her mother had been crying. She pet her mother's cheek, comforting her in the only way she knew how. Bellatrix lifted Delphini's tiny hand and kissed her palm. Gently. She was always gentle with her beloved baby.

Bellatrix said something about the Dark Lord. Something about losing her knife. Something about her wand being stolen. Something about the Mudblood and the Chosen One and a house-elf and a vault and an escape. A lot of words that meant nothing to the baby in Bella's arms.

"I thought he was going to kill me," Bellatrix said, holding tightly to the baby.

This was the only line her mother ever spoke that Delphini could remember completely clearly, verbatim, without question - voice and tone and intonation and everything.

"I thought he was going to kill me."

Bellatrix kissed Delphini on the temple, right over her soft dark curls, and set her on the ground by her feet. She looked to the sky, took in a deep breath, and closed her eyes. Between her hands, which were about a dinner plate's width apart, a hot orange ball began to form.

Orange.

A new color.

Delphini could not take her eyes off it. Neither could Bellatrix.

The hot orange ball grew and grew and grew, spinning between her mother's hands but not coming in direct contact with her skin, until suddenly Bellatrix screamed and thrust her hands forward, palms out, sending that hot orange ball skipping across the lake. When it reached the opposite shore it flew up into the air and then straight back down, plunging into the inky water with a massive splash, a hiss, and a subsequent geyser of steam.

Baby Delphini giggled, delighted by the spectacle, and stretched up her arms, wanting to be picked up. When Bellatrix did not reach for her she said, "Up, Mumma?" It was one of only three two-word phrases she used regularly, the others being "Tee See-see," which was her best attempt at "Auntie Cissy," and "Fee num-num," which meant she desired mushed-up veggies or baby biscuits or breast milk.

"Up Mumma?" she said again, stretching her arms up higher, wanting her mother to hold her on her hip as she had before.

Instead, Bellatrix slumped to the ground and pulled the baby into her lap. She pressed cool lips to Delphini's cheek. Her hands were still warm.

"I thought he was going to kill me," she said again.

She hugged the baby to her chest.

Delphini began to squirm, wanting out of her mother's embrace, wanting to crawl and explore and maybe touch the inky black water of the lake, maybe even find that hot orange ball, but Bellatrix would not release her. Like a snake with a mouse, every wiggle only made Bella squeeze tighter.

"Delphi? I thought he was going to kill me."

-0-0-0-

Hermione moved several paces closer, until she was standing mere steps behind him, almost within reach.

"Severus? You were right to think I panicked. I did. I was afraid."

"Of? Commitment?"

"Not simply commitment. It goes deeper than that."

"Do tell."

"The night before I... before I needed space... when we were together... You told me you wanted me to stay. To live with you. You said you wanted to keep me. You said you wanted us to be married."

This gave him pause. He added two more clockwise stirs and one counterclockwise, then set the spoon down on the table, but remained unwilling - or unable - to face her.

"I don't recall mentioning marriage."

"Extract your own memory and view it in a Pensieve, Severus! You told me you wanted to _marry_ me. And that's when I panicked. You're right - I thought we were becoming too close, too fast. I panicked not only because I'm terrified of getting married again, but because a tiny part of me wanted you to want that, because I want it too, and I can't want that. I can't want what I shouldn't want and I especially shouldn't want it now, not yet, not when it's been such a short time when I've seen what wanting too much too fast can do! I wasn't afraid of you. I was afraid of me. Me and you, together. I was afraid of us."

He swiveled around, staring at her incredulously. After an uncomfortable pause, he said, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"In case you've forgotten, I'm twice divorced. Twice! I fell in love hard and fast and got married _twice_ thinking I had something that would last a lifetime and I was so very wrong both times! And the thought of doing that again scares me!"

"I don't recall mentioning marriage," he said again, wracking his brain. He remembered being together that night... how good the sex was... what she'd been willing to do for the first time... and felt his face go hot. He'd engaged in similar acts with Narcissa, back when he accidentally told her he loved her. But this was different! He hadn't been drinking with Hermione. Surely he'd remember if he'd lost his mind and said...

"Plus, I'd forgotten to take the potion that night. I remembered later, in time, thank Merlin, but _later._ What if I hadn't? What if I'd fallen asleep as quickly as you did and didn't think about it again until the following evening? Severus, I've birthed one child every two years for the last five years and to keep with that pattern I should be getting pregnant any day now, only to end up alone with four children to raise on my own. And that scares me! When you said… when you started talking about missing all those milestones with Delphini, combined with asking me to live with you, and marry you, didn't you think it might scare me?"

"Er... no." Damn it. His cold façade was melting away. He wanted to remain angry, or, at the very least, indifferent... but at the same time, he wanted to hold her, and comfort her, and implore her to stay, even though that was precisely what pushed her away. Maybe he _had_ mentioned marriage... but he hadn't _meant_ to.

"What if I did it again, let myself fall, and we married, and we had a baby, and then, oh, I don't know, then Narcissa Malfoy happens to get divorced in a year and decides she's going to steal you away from me and you let her and I'm right back where I was five months ago except with another child I can't handle or afford?! What if you fall out of love with me as quickly as I'm falling in? What if you leave me alone and broken and feeling stupid for the third time - you have no idea how stupid being divorced for the second time made me feel - and when my children ask about their fathers I have to tell them, 'Yours is dead, and yours is dead, and yours is basically a rapist, and yours decided to leave me for someone better'?" Her voice cracked on that last word, and with it, a crack appeared down the middle of his purposefully frozen heart. She brushed away frustrated tears with her palms and continued.

"Severus, what if the next time I have to make a decision between letting my children go hungry and whoring myself out the man who hires me isn't looking for help around the house? What if you and I have a child then you decide you don't want to be a father? What if we get married and then you decide you don't wish to have a wife? What do I do then?"

This hurt more than the slap. He stepped to her, placing his hands on her upper arms.

"Do you truly think I would do that to you, Hermione? That I could? Do you think I am the sort of man who would marry you, get you pregnant, and subsequently leave you for someone else?"

"No, I don't!" She sniffed and felt a tear run down her short nose, dripping off the end. "But I didn't think Ron would cheat on me with Lavender Brown! I didn't think Reginald would hand me over to Lucius Malfoy as payment for his debts! I didn't think I'd end up twenty-eight years old with three children and no husband and no job, willing to sell myself like a prostitute just to put food on the table! Do you have any idea... any idea what... what that was like? I mean, Severus... think about it! I was willing to set aside everything I've ever stood for, my pride and my self-worth and my very _personhood,_ and give myself to you to avoid getting evicted! That was the lowest point... the lowest... ever..." Her shoulders shook with the humiliation of what she'd nearly had to do before he hired her. "And then, to my surprise, you've been so wonderful, and I adore you, and I started think, what if we could make something of... of us... except... except... except what if it ended and I found myself in a worse position with an extra b-baby and a broken h-heart? I can't take another b-broken heart, Severus. I don't want to sell myself. I don't want to lose myself. I can't... I can't..."

She was crying now, full on crying, and though he still felt his anger and hurt had been justified, he felt like a royal ass for what he'd said about her with Macmillan. He pulled her to his chest, wrapped his arms around her, and let her sob into his shoulder. He shushed her in what he hoped was a soothing way, while breathing in the intoxicating scent of her coconut shampoo, and tried to think on what to say to best assure her he'd never let that happen.

"I swear it, Hermione. On my mother's grave: I wouldn't cheat on you as Weasley did. I'd never degrade you in the manner of your second husband. And I certainly wouldn't put a baby in you only to abandon both the woman I love and our child a year later, not even for someone as sweet and docile as Narcissa Malfoy."

Despite her tears, Hermione snickered. "Sweet and docile?"

"I don't want anyone else, Hermione." He cupped her face in his hands, making eye contact, hoping beyond hope that she could see the sincerity there. "Does that frighten you?"

"What frightens me is that I can see myself doing with you all of the things I'm afraid to do. All the things I'm afraid to want to do."

"Living together? Marriage? A baby?"

"Yes. And _love._ Just the thought of... of loving someone... of being loved... of falling in love..." She pulled away, needing to express her fears out of his embrace, unable to look him in the eye as she lamented her perceived weaknesses. "I'm not easy to live with. I'm headstrong and particular and I prefer books to Quidditch. I have to look at life from every possible angle before making a decision and even then I always worry I've made the wrong one. I am an insufferable know-it-all, you know I am, but I'm an indecisive one, as the last several years have caused me to question everything I thought I knew both about myself and about the world. I can be stubborn, and despite what I nearly did this summer, I'm moral to a fault. I'm sorry I said I needed space. I'm sorry I took off on you - I'm sorry I did to you what I'm terrified you'll do to me. But please, Severus, please try to understand _why."_

"I think I'm starting to understand," he said delicately. "But I wish you'd talked to me about this two and a half weeks ago."

"I told you, I panicked! You said what you did, then you talked about missing milestones, and even though a part of me couldn't help thinking, yes, yes, I want him, I want this, a greater part of me couldn't help thinking, what if you love me today and a year from now or two ears from now or five years from now – even if sweet, docile Narcissa doesn't throw herself at you – you wake up to realize you've made a terrible mistake?"

"I won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know how I feel!"

"What if you stop feeling that way?"

"I won't."

"How do you _know?"_

"Because you're the only woman I've loved since Lily!" He threw up his hands, exasperated by his own admission, but at the same time relieved to have it out. "Because you're the only one with whom I've ever been in love. Because you're all I want and all I'll ever want. I would never cheat on you or use you or abuse you and even if, by some bizarre twist of fate, we got married, had a baby, and ended up deciding to split, I would never – _never_ – leave you destitute to raise my child alone. Having failed to claim Delphini is currently one of my two greatest regrets in life, and I'll not do that again to another child. Not ever. Not even yours - your three - even though they're not mine. If we... if we were to take whatever we have further, to live together or perhaps more, if I were to step into that role for your children, I wouldn't simply forget about them should something happen between us either."

She burst into sobs again. Hard, wracking, ugly sobs. Confused, happy, sad, scared, and relieved sobs. He brushed back her hair and wiped the tears away with his thumbs.

"Most importantly, Hermione, if you don't want another child, we won't have one. I missed milestones with my daughter, yes, but I don't need a baby with you to make me feel whole. _You_ make me feel whole. And I'm sorry for what I said about Macmillan. I knew you hadn't slept with that pompous prat. I only wanted you to hurt as much as I did. It was juvenile of me."

(It was juvenile and it was also the way his daughter had felt about her bullies. This similar innate drive for revenge was not lost on him. As it was one of his least attractive qualities, he thought it might be one worth trying to mold out of her.)

"I'm sorry too!" She took several deep breaths, trying to stop crying (though the tears continued to fall) and reached out to take both of his hands in hers. "For what it's worth, I only had lunch with Ernie in exchange for sneaking me into Narcissa's hospital room. I wanted to speak with her. That's all. It wasn't a lunch date. It was just... lunch. It wasn't even an enjoyable lunch. He _is_ a pompous prat. I couldn't wait to leave."

"Why did you want to speak with Narcissa?"

"I'll tell you _after_ you tell me about what led to your daughter being temporarily kicked out of school and coming to live here."

"We do have a lot to talk about, don't we?" They were still holding hands. He brought hers together and up to his lips for a quick kiss before releasing them. He then brushed back her hair as if he might kiss her, but quite suddenly, he dropped his arms to his sides and averted his gaze, which she was learning meant he was about to make an admission he'd rather not share, as it exposed a vulnerability he preferred to keep hidden.

"Severus?" she prompted when he did not speak.

"I was jealous when I saw that article. I was afraid it might be true, what an anonymous source said about you being better off with someone younger, more attractive, less damaged."

She half-smiled, stepped to him, and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his chest.

"I don't want someone younger, I think you're incredibly attractive, and if you don't mind, we can be damaged together."

His smile made his eyes crinkle in the corners. His hands moved to her arse, holding her close to him. "I don't want to frighten you but I also don't want to lie. I meant it when I called you the woman I love."

Now she was the one brushing back his hair, wanting to find his face behind the black curtain. He was looking upon her with kindness and desire and that rarely-seen vulnerability. She pulled him down to her, almost into a kiss, but halted when his lips were but a whisper from hers.

"Severus Snape, I'm so in love with you it scares me."

He closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers, feeling his chest explode as if filled with thousands of tiny golden snitches. Her heart gave a jolt, and she kept her hand cupped on his cheek and their lips slightly parted. It was a tender kiss, a sweet one. A perfect one.

"If it scares you," he said when they parted, "I won't ask you again to move in. I won't ask you to marry me."

"Did you want to marry me? Do you want us to move in together?"

"I genuinely don't recall mentioning marriage. It's certainly not something I've been seriously mulling over. Sometimes, during sex, while I don't exactly lie, I _do_ say what I might otherwise keep to myself, and I won't pretend I haven't given considerable thought to how nice it would be to have you here on a permanent basis - to have you move in. You and the children, like a family. But it doesn't matter. I won't ask again. I love you enough to promise not to ask again. We can live, separately and in sin, until I die of old age and you find yourself someone younger and better looking and less damaged – though my threat to return from beyond the grave as a ghost to haunt you and your new man stands, for the record."

She chuckled and re-wrapped her arms around his waist, again resting her cheek against his chest, happy to be back in his arms. "What now?"

"Right now? Right now, I think I'll go Stupify Delphini so she can't interrupt, then carry you upstairs to my bed and show you how much I've missed you over the last two and a half weeks. We'll probably have to Obliviate her afterward, too. I have to set a good example. Can't have her think we're engaging in inappropriate activities. Her aunt taught her people who have sex are supposed to be married first."

Hermione let out an undignified snort of laughter. "You realize this was probably the least romantic way any couple could tell each other that they're in love, right? In the midst of a terrible row, between a slap across the face and a promise to Stupify and Obliviate an innocent child?"

He laughed too. "You realize this is simply the scene leading up to our first kiss in my potions lab all over again, right? We seem to enjoy a good row before moving one from one stage of our relationship to the next."

"You realize that means we're establishing a pattern that we'd probably do better to abolish?"

"We should probably try this over again in a much more romantic way in the near future."

"Yes," she agreed, hugging him. He rubbed her back and she snuggled closer, breathing in the scent of his soap mixed with... peppermint. Ice Mice, she suspected. "We're due for some romance."

"How about a week from tomorrow?" he suggested.

"I don't think we should schedule it." She stood on her toes to kiss his temple. "Give me the newspaper."

Severus let her out of his embrace, reached for the Prophet on the table, and handed it to her. She tapped it with her wand, setting it on fire. It burned quickly, landing in a pile of ash on the floor, which she Vanished.

"That ought to be the fate of every issue of that rubbish paper," he said. They were quiet a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts, staring at the floor where the ashes had been.

"Severus?" Hermione broke the silence, stroking his cheek tenderly. "I truly am sorry. I'll never take off on you like that again. And even though I still don't think we should rush into anything, there's absolutely no doubt in my mind that I love you."

-0-0-0-

He didn't go back.

He didn't go back.

He didn't go back.

He was fighting it. Fighting the voice in his head. Fighting the Imperius Curse.

He wouldn't go back.

He wouldn't go back.

He wouldn't go back.

But where to go instead?

He couldn't fight it forever. Men went mad trying. Wizards _killed themselves_ trying.

His first task was complete.

He'd put the trace on the boy. He'd Obliviated the sitter. He'd escaped unharmed.

But it wasn't supposed to be this way.

It wasn't supposed to have gone so wrong.

It was just a bet. A harmless bet.

Well... mostly harmless.

It wasn't supposed to lead to this.

He closed his eyes and covered his ears, as if being without the ability to see and hear would stop the voice.

It didn't.

It didn't, but he couldn't.

He didn't want to kill his wife.

He didn't want to kill Narcissa

He didn't want to kill her.

-0-0-0-

They did not, of course, Stupify and Obliviate his daughter so they could have sex, though if she hadn't been in the home they both knew it was likely they'd have ended up in bed.

As it was, Hermione had to be going, to relieve Mrs. Feingold, but she invited both Severus and Delphini for dinner the following night. Severus accepted (he hoped Delphini wouldn't mind). Before she went upstairs to Floo home, he took her face gently between his hands and kissed her, a long, lingering, loving kiss that made her pulse race and her knees go weak like the heroine in that tawdry romance novel she read as a teenager. She very nearly asked him to make love to her right there on the floor of the cellar.

She returned home feeling better than she had in weeks.

She returned home feeling like she was ready to be a proper girlfriend, a better mother, and maybe even the future Minister for Magic.

She returned home feeling like she could fly without a broom.

-0-0-0-

"How did Ms. Granger gain entry into the house, Delphini?" Severus leaned against the doorway to his daughter's bedroom. She was sprawled out across her bed, reading her Transfiguration textbook and taking notes in the margins.

She set down her quill, cleared her mind, and tried to look innocent. "I don't know, Sir. Perhaps you left the door ajar and she simply... walked in?"

He smirked. "Perhaps."

"So..." Delphini pulled herself into a cross-legged sitting position. She patted the bed beside her, an imitation of something her aunt had done countless times when beckoning her over for a chat. Severus, smiling, made his way to sit beside her. "Is Hermione Granger your girlfriend again?"

"What if she is?" he asked carefully. "Would that bother you?"

"I don't know..." She dog-eared the page of her book, closed it, and set it down atop her pillow. "Honestly, Professor? I don't know if she's good enough for you."

-0-0-0-

"Mummy?" Henry interrupted the bedtime story, climbing into Hermione's lap and trying to close the book, his bony little bum wiggling against the tops of her thighs. "Mummy? I miss Pofessah."

Hermione hugged him and kissed his cheek. "I know. But guess what, Henry? You'll be seeing Professor Snape again really soon. He's coming for dinner tomorrow night. Would you like that?"

"Yes!" Henry threw up his arms, almost whacking his big sister in the face. "Yes, Pofessah's coming! Henwy's happy!"

Hermione grinned. "I'm pretty happy myself, Henry. What about you, lovey?" She turned to Helena, who returned her smile.

"Yes," said Helena. "I am happy too."

"I had to go to him like Belle had to go back to the Beast, but don't worry, we didn't have to fight off any angry villagers to break a spell," Hermione joked. "Everything's fine now."

"See, Mummy?" Helena puffed up, looking pretty darn full of herself. "I _told you_ real life can have Happy Ever Afters!"

"I don't know about Ever After," Hermione said with a chuckle. She kissed Helena's cheek as she had Henry's. "How about we just focus on our Happy Right Now?"

"Happy Wight Now!" agreed Henry, not really understanding what that meant, but liking the way it sounded.

"Certainly," Helena said with a nod, trying her best to look and sound much older than five-and-a-half. "We'll just focus on Happy Right Now."

* * *

 **A/N:**

To answer **C's** Q about how many chapters are left - originally there were supposed to be 50 main chapters plus an epilogue and a 'tag,' like my fic Wanting Narcissa, but I had to split two chapters in half due to length and flow so now it'll be 54, with 52 main chapters, an epilogue, and the 'tag.'

Next chapter is on the fluffy side, then a bit of danger and drama are followed by the climax, denouement, falling action, and, eventually, the happily ever after (unless I go REALLY Hamlet with this and kill off everyone in the end. Just kidding. Or am I? Yeah, I am. Probably...).

:)

 **-AL**


	47. The Beauty of the World

**CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN**

 **The beauty of the world...**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

On Saturday Hermione made cottage pie for dinner with sticky toffee pudding for dessert because she knew Severus liked one and Delphini liked the other.

They arrived promptly at six.

Severus, as he was no longer in pain (most of the time) and therefore did not need to wear loose-fitting soft clothing, was dressed as he used to when teaching, in a long frock coat and button down vest over a long-sleeved black shirt with black trousers. Delphini, though she'd been told she didn't have to dress up, wore one of her best dress robes, which was maroon and navy, made of crushed velvet material with ornate lace trim and tiny silver buttons down the front. She'd even washed and brushed her hair without a fight. (Well, without _much_ of a fight.)

The children were excited to see Severus, to put it mildly.

Henry threw himself against "Pofessah's" legs, hugging him tight, as if he'd been afraid they'd never see each other again. Helena gave him a picture of a bubbling cauldron over blue flames she's drawn earlier in the day. And Hero reached toward him with her pudgy arms, calling "Fessa! Up! Up!"

He ruffled Henry's hair, lifted Hero for a hug, and praised Helena's artistic abilities. After setting the baby down he picked up Henry, flipped him upside down, and pretended to almost drop him, much to the boy's delight. He then promised Helena he would display her picture prominently in his sitting room and surprised the excited children with Chocolate Frogs and Ice Mice he'd purchased earlier in the day.

"I missded you, Pofessah!" said Henry.

Severus grinned uncharacteristically. "I've missed you too, Henry. All of you! Spinner's End hasn't been the same without you."

(Unnoticed by Severus, Delphini's eyes narrowed.)

"Mummy missed you too," said Helena, wrapping her arms around his leg as her little brother had. "Can we have a sleepover at your house?"

"Yeah!" shouted Henry. "Seepovah at Pofessah's house!"

"No, no," said Severus, glancing at Delphini. He hadn't intended for her to know that the children and their mother sometimes spent the night at his house. "Let's just have dinner."

Hermione set the cottage pie on a trivet on the counter and hurried into the adjoining sitting room to make introductions, shooting a Look at Severus because he had yet to do so.

"Children, this is Delphini. She's Professor Snape's daughter. Delphini, these are my children, Helena, Henry, and Hero."

"Nice to meet you," said Helena politely.

"Hi Del-fee," said Henry, smiling.

"Hi-hi!" said Hero. She attempted a wave.

"Hello," said Delphini. She hardly looked at the tiny trio. She glanced quickly around the flat then slunk back toward the fireplace, as if hoping it would swallow her up and spit her out back at her new home on Spinner's End.

"We're happy to have you here," said Hermione. "Dinner is ready. What would you like to drink, Delphini? I have milk, pumpkin juice, butterbeer, tea..."

"Water is fine."

Hermione, holding Hero, Severus, holding Henry, and Helena headed into the kitchen. Delphini hung back, one arm wrapped around her body holding securely to her opposite elbow.

"Come along," called Severus, not yet realizing anything was amiss with the pre-teen.

She walked toward the table as if balancing a book on top of her head and sat carefully, folding her hands on the table, elbows by her side, back straight and ankles crossed, just as she had at lunch with Minerva.

Helena sat beside the older girl, excited to have someone closer to her age present, but not someone too young for 'grown up' conversation. Hero was placed in her high chair, as usual, and Henry crawled into Severus' lap. The man quickly placed him in the next chair instead, with a pat on the head. Hermione took the seat to Severus' other side, across from Helena. She waved her wand and the dinner began to serve itself. Henry tried talking Severus' ear off while Hermione tried in vain to spark up a conversation with Delphini, who responded with one word answers and shrugs.

Severus sighed. Hermione slipped her hand under the table and squeezed his knee reassuringly. Helena took over the conversation, telling Severus about the nice couple from Australia they met at the London Eye and followed to the ice cream parlor.

"Wendell and Monica Wilkins," Hermione said, sending her lover a significant look. "I hadn't seen them since just after the war, but they didn't remember me."

"Ah." He leaned over and pressed his lips to Hermione's temple. "We'll talk more about them later."

Soon enough, it was time to serve the pudding. Hermione stood up to do so, clearing the dinner dishes with a wave of her wand that sent them to the sink.

"Tell me, Delphini," said Helena in a tone much older than her age. "Do you go to Hogwarts? What House are you in? Mummy was in Gryffindor. I want to be in Gryffindor too! That's where the brave kids go."

"Bwave!" confirmed Henry, brandishing his spoon like a wand. "Like Mummy and Hawwy Pottah!"

"Mummy's told us all about Hogwarts," said Helena. "Especially me. Sometimes she reads me passages from Hogwarts, A History. Mummy loves to read to us. What House is your House?"

Delphini scowled. Her mother never told her anything about Hogwarts – not that she could recall, anyway – and she didn't remember ever having been read to by Bellatrix either.

"Delphini," prompted Severus. "Helena asked you a question."

"I only went to Hogwarts for six weeks. Then they kicked me out."

Helena's cinnamon eyes went round as she gasped. "Hogwarts can _do_ that?!"

"They can when your mum is evil," answered Delphini darkly. "They didn't want me to start there in the first place, because of her. She was in Slytherin. I'm in Slytherin. The Dark Lord was in Slytherin. We're not anything like you _Gryffindors_."

Severus shot her a sharp look. He had no idea why she suddenly seemed so sullen and miserable. When he'd asked her the evening before about having dinner with Hermione and her kids, Delphini had said she'd go. She'd almost sounded excited about it. Where was _that_ girl?

"Delphini, Severus tells me he's been tutoring you and you're very talented in Charms and Potions," said Hermione, setting a pudding down in front of her, hoping to diffuse the tension. "Are those your favorite subjects?"

"I don't know," Delphini bristled. "They're fine. It doesn't matter. I don't care. Stop asking me stuff."

"Delphini, I need to speak with you a moment," said Severus, standing.

"No thanks." She poked at her dessert with her fork.

"It was not a request." He gritted his teeth, took her firmly by the elbow, and steered her into the bedroom, closing the door behind them.

"What is your issue?"

"Haven't got one," she replied snottily. "What's yours?"

"You've had a rotten attitude since we arrived. I deserve an explanation."

"If you hate my _attitude_ so much, why don't you just send me back to Malfoy Manor? Then you can rejoin your brave little Mudblood family and forget all about me!"

"That word is not permitted..."

"In your house," she cut him off, followed by borrowing one of his favorite phrases: " _In case it escaped your notice,_ we are not in your house!"

"Delphini Druella Black..."

"I want to go home!"

"We will return home after dessert."

"I mean I want to go home to Malfoy Manor! I want my auntie."

"Your auntie is not at Malfoy Manor."

"Send me to St. Mungo's then. I can live there. Give Granger's little brats my room.. You know you want to! You'd rather be anyone else's father than mine and that's fine because I'd rather have any other father but you!"

His lip curled and he was about to respond with equal vitriol, when what should have been obvious hit him like a charging Hippogriff. The anger escaped him like air from a popped balloon.

"You're jealous."

"Am not." She plopped down on the bed, arms crossed, and pouted. "Why would I be jealous of some stupid kids just because they've got a nice mother who reads to them and just because you act like you're their dad even though they're not yours? For the record, Professor, you said Spinner's End hasn't been the same without Henry but I think it's been just swell! And you said Helena's picture was highly impressive. It was not. That cauldron she colored looked like a lumpy bumpy blob of... of... of stupidness! Hermione Granger is weak, she was so weak my mother almost killed her without even trying! And... and... and... and I even _hate_ the baby!"

Severus settled himself beside her. He felt like this was one of those moments during which he needed to be a good father and regretted that his own lack of decent parents meant he wasn't sure how.

"I think you're jealous, Delphini Druella Black Snape, but you needn't be."

She leaned forward, letting her hair fall across her face, hiding her from view, and chose not to comment on the fact that he'd added his last name to her own, even though it both made her want to cry and made her want to hug him.

"I'm not jealous."

"I think you are."

"If I am, it's only because _you_ picked them up and hugged them and told you how much you missed them. Why did you miss them so much? It isn't as if you were sitting around at home alone for three weeks!"

"Shall I pick you up and hug you and tell you I've missed you?"

"No!" She answered with conviction but secretly the thought of him picking her up for a hug as he had Henry and the girls didn't really seem so bad. _"I'm not a baby."_

"You could color for me a lumpy bumpy blob of stupidness and no matter how terrible it is, I shall hang it prominently of my refrigerator."

"I don't color." She tried to continue looking mad but the thought of such silliness made her want to giggle.

"I believe you should know, I love Hermione. And I care very deeply for her children..."

"So?" snapped Delphini, the urge to giggle gone. "Live with _them,_ then, and let me go back to my Auntie."

He held up a hand. "Let me finish. I love Hermione and I care very deeply for her children, but _you_ are my daughter, and if I'm making you feel like you mean less to me when I show them attention, I suppose it must mean I'm not showing you enough attention. For that, I am sorry. In a sense, I've only been a father for a matter of months, and I can't imagine I'm terribly good at it."

She leaned her arm against his as she had with Hermione on the front steps. "You're better than my uncle Lucius."

"Not a high bar."

They sat in silence for a minute or two, when Delphini broke it to make a confession.

"I guess perhaps I _am_ the tiniest little bit jealous. But it's because it's not fair. How come they get to have a mother and I don't? And now that I have a father..."

She mumbled something he didn't catch. He asked her to repeat it.

 _"Now-that-I-have-a-father-I-don't-really-want-to-share!"_ she answered all in one quick breath.

"Hermione tells her children 'sharing is caring.'"

Delphini pushed back her hair to look at him. "Auntie Cissy says, 'What's yours is yours and what's mine is mine.' I think I like her way better."

"A wise man once told me that there is no finite number of people one can love, nor is the a cutoff on the number of people one can be loved by."

"Do you love me?" Her eyes were wide and fearful, as if certain he would say no. He blinked in surprise.

"Of course I do."

"You've never said."

"Haven't I?" In all the times he'd assured her that she was loved by her mother, surely he must have also expressed the same... right? "I must have."

"No, but it's alright."

"It's not alright. I..."

"Don't tell me now," she cut him off. "If you tell me now, it will be like you're saying it because I want you to."

He kissed her temple, the way Hermione often did her own children, and wished for perhaps the millionth time he'd had better role models as a child. Do parents still kiss their children once they reach eleven? Do they hug them? He couldn't remember the last time his mother said "I love you." And he wasn't sure his father had ever said it.

"Sometimes, little girl, you seem much older than eleven."

"I know. I'm very mature."

"And other times, you act like a petulant toddler. Including tonight, at dinner." He bumped her shoulder with his. "Are you ready to return for dessert?"

She scrunched up her nose and glared at him for a moment, then her face relaxed and she smiled sheepishly. "I did kind of act like a baby. I'm sorry. Let's go back."

-0-0-0-

Damn it all to hell.

Lucius hadn't come back.

He hadn't come back after leaving Hermione Granger's flat.

He hadn't come back after putting the tracking spell on young Henry.

Thankfully, it would still work. Thankfully, he did not need to return for that.

But where was he? What was he doing? What might he be saying?

Damn it all to hell.

Because that's precisely where they were going.

Hell.

From the moment they shook on that bet -

They were damned.

-0-0-0-

The rest of dessert went well. Delphini talked about her love of Charms and her admiration for tiny dueling champion Professor Flitwick, she described the floating candles and enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall for Helena, and she bragged to Henry about her cousin Draco, who had been such a talented Seeker he could've played professionally but chose not too (Hermione had to fight the urge to eye-roll over this).

After dinner, as had become customary, Hermione put on a movie for the children. Delphini, like her aunt and every other non-Muggle-born witch or wizard to have seen Hermione's telly, was completely entranced by it. She sat between Henry and Helena, rarely blinking, as Sebastian the crab tried to convince Princess Ariel that under the sea was the ideal place to be.

"I'm the worst sort of mother, Severus. Since buying that silly thing I've come to rely on it for ninety minutes of peace after dinner nearly every night. My parents only allowed one hour of television time per day on weekends and during holidays and a half hour on weeknights. Often I skipped that time anyway and read instead."

"I don't think wanting a ninety minute break makes you the worst sort of mother." He wrapped an arm around her waist, his chest to her back, as she finished the dishes. "The worst sorts of mothers let their children watch for at least two straight hours."

She giggled and swatted at his thigh as his lips moved to her neck.

"We have a lot to talk about, remember?" She washed the last plate. "Tell me about Delphini getting kicked out of school and coming to live with you."

"I shall. After you tell me why you visited Narcissa."

-0-0-0-

On October 29th, two days before Halloween, Lucius Malfoy stumbled into St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries dirty, disheveled, and slightly disoriented.

He handed his wand, which he'd broken in half, to the witch at the desk.

He said, "I don't want to kill her," then passed out on the floor.

Fighting the Imperius Curse, as it turns out, is nothing short of exhausting.

-0-0-0-

On October 30th, the day before Halloween, Severus got word via a Patronus from Draco that Delphini would be able to visit her aunt the following afternoon.

As they'd already made plans to spend the holiday with Hermione and her children at the local library costume party, Severus replied that he would bring Delphini by the convalescent center before lunch, stay until four, then Floo to Hermione's home.

-0-0-0-

"I'll miss you, Mrs. Malfoy," said Siobhan the mediwitch, smiling as she helped Narcissa to her feet.

Narcissa was fully dressed and put together for the first time since her attack. She had a silk scarf wrapped around her neck to hide the gauze covering her bandaging, but aside from that, she looked her old self.

"It won't be the same here without you."

"It won't be the same there without you," said Narcissa, returning the smile. "Siobhan? I'd like to visit my husband before I am moved."

Siobhan paused.

This was not protocol.

Lucius was also in the closed ward, but in a locked room. He had indeed been determined to have been under the Imperius Curse, though it could not yet be proven that he'd been so cursed at the time of her attack, thus he was being treated as both a victim and a criminal, in addition to being a patient (he was emaciated, dehydrated, and unable to explain his whereabouts over the last several weeks).

"Mrs. Malfoy, I'm terribly sorry, but..."

"I need to see my husband before I'm transfered, Siobhan. It is imperative. I know you can get me in. I know you can."

Siobhan sighed.

This was not protocol.

She could be in serious trouble if anyone found out.

Narcissa ran her long index fingernail slowly down Siobhan's arm to her wrist, and looked to her with wide, pleading eyes, and a pouty lip.

"Please?"

Siobhan groaned.

This was not protocol.

But she'd do it.

-0-0-0-

"We have to dress up like our favorite book characters, Mummy! That's what the sign on the library door said! I want to be Matilda!" Helena was jumping on the bed beside Henry, who was sprawled on his back laughing as her bounces rocketed him into the air. Hermione was changing baby Hero's diaper with her back to them.

"Matilda is a great choice! What about you, Henry?"

"A twuck!"

"What book is a truck from?" asked Helena. "You can't be a truck!"

"I be a twuck!" insisted Henry. "Mummy? I be a twuck, pwease?"

"I think we can make you a truck." She kissed clean Hero's tummy, then blew a raspberry against it, making the baby wiggle and giggle. "I'm going to be a mother cat and Hero will be my kitten who lost her mittens.

"What Pofessah be?"

"I can't imagine he's going to dress up." She grinned over the thought of him wearing whiskers, a tail, and pointed ears, like she would be.

"What about Delphini?" asked Helena.

"Yeah! Dah-fee-fee need a costume!"

"Her name is _Del-phi-ni_ ," Helena corrected Henry.

Henry tried to copy, over-emphasizing each syllable. "Dell-feeee-feeee."

"Feee-feee!" copied Hero.

"Good try Henry," said Hermione, chuckling. "You too, Hero! Now into the kitchen. Time for breakfast."

-0-0-0-

"I have to look perfect!"

Delphini's bedroom was a disaster.

Clothes were strewn all over the bed, desk, chair, and floor. Clean mixed with dirty, school uniforms mixed with fancy dress robes... Severus could barely find anywhere safe to step as he made his way across to the center of the room, where Delphini had a hair brush stuck in her hair and had started screaming because she couldn't get it out.

"Stay still," he ordered. He grabbed the handle and yanked.

"Ouch!" She pulled away. "Don't you think I tried that?! It won't come out! It'll be in there forever! Auntie is going to think I don't know how to brush my own hair!"

"You _don't_ know how to brush your own hair," he muttered. He tried again, more gently, to released the brush from the hair wrapped around it. No luck.

"We're going to be late!" shouted Delphini, a note of hysteria in her voice. "I'M NOT EVEN DRESSED!"

"What's wrong with the dress you have on?" he asked. It was long and dark pink with white lace trim around the neck, bottom, and short sleeve cuffs and dark blue buttons down the front. It was nice.

"IT'S A NIGHT DRESS! AUGHH! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT GIRLS!"

"No, I don't," he concurred. He'd faced this same criticism countless times over the years as head of Slytherin House (including once from a third year girl who informed him she needed to leave class because she'd started her period, to which he'd replied "Can't you hold it?" The girl had responded by bursting into tears, knocking another student's potions ingredients to the floor, and storming out, screaming "You don't know anything about girls!").

"I need a dress!" shouted Delphini. "I need a haircut! I need makeup!"

"You don't wear makeup," he pointed out unhelpfully.

"SHE'S GOING TO THINK I'M A MESS!"

Severus tried once more to get the brush out of her hair, but when it seemed he was only succeeding in making it more stuck, he gave up, told her he'd have help for her in a minute, and went downstairs to Floo to Hermione's flat.

She and the children were eating a late breakfast when he surprised them.

"I need you to help Delphini," he said, looking exasperated and tired. "I'll stay with them."

"Certainly," said Hermione, confused but willing to help if she could. He settled at the table between Helena and Henry, while she, still clad in her own pajamas, rushed to the fireplace.

-0-0-0-

Siobhan stood guard in the hall as Narcissa entered Lucius' private room.

"You came to visit me?" he asked weakly, upon realizing his wife was in the room.

"I'm being transferred out today. I wanted to speak with you first."

"I'm glad you're not dead."

"As am I. You nearly killed me."

"I'm sorry." He closed his eyes. "I was not in control."

"Not this time, no, perhaps not. But every other time, Lucius..." She sat on the end of his bed. He pulled himself into a seated position. "You've landed me here more times than I care to remember. And so many other times, I've forgone the care of Healers because I worried about what it might do to our reputations were the public at large to discover what it is you do to me."

"I love you, Narcissa," he began. She shook her head.

"No."

"No?"

"No. I want a divorce, Lucius."

"A div... What? No! You know I was under the Imperius Curse!"

"This time, Lucius! This time, you were. But only this time. Every other time, you've hurt me while completely in control of your actions. When we were first married, you'd only get rough with me when you'd been drinking, remember? But as years passed, I was the one drinking, not you, and yet you were still hurting me."

"You can't divorce me, Narcissa!" he said, his eyes wide with desperation. "It will cost you your life!"

"I know, Lucius. But what sort of life am I living?"

His grey eyes were watery with tears that would not fall. "Please, Narcissa..."

"If you grant me a divorce, if _you_ file instead of me, knowing it will save my life, I'll forever appreciate it. But even if you don't, once I'm released from the convalescent home, I won't be returning to you. I've gotten myself a job. I have secured a place to live. And I am prepared to fit an entire lifetime of happiness into each day until my days are over."

"Narcissa!"

"Goodbye, Lucius." She stood, moved to his side, and kissed his stubbly cheek.

"Narcissa, wait! You can't do this! I love you! I'm sorry! Please!"

"I have to."

"You took that blood oath!" he shouted, sounding almost mad. "You can't leave! If you divorce me, you'll be dead within the year!"

"I know," she said. "But at least I'll have had one good year."

"Please, think about what you're doing, Narcissa. You're my wife. We have a son. We have a grandson!"

She walked toward the door, determined not to turn back, not to let him see the pain in her eyes, the forming tears. Unwilling to let him know this hurt her as much as it hurt him. He tried to get up from the bed, forgetting that he was held in place by magic, as they worried about him escaping, especially if he was found to still be under the Curse. He couldn't lose his wife. Not after all this, not after all this time, all they'd been through, all their history... There had never been a divorce in the Malfoy line. Dowry rules and blood oaths insured that. He wouldn't be the first. He couldn't!

"Narcissa, please, let's discuss this like rational adults. For fuck's sake, Narcissa, doesn't it matter that I love you?"

She reached the door, took the knob in her hand, and turned.

"I genuinely loved you too, Lucius. I have for all these years. But I'm done."

"You're going to throw away over three decades of history, like that?" He snapped his fingers. "How can you be so cold?"

"Goodbye, Lucius."

She exited. She closed the door.

Once back in her own room, she let Siobhan envelop her in a hug.

Once certain the act would not be witnessed, she let herself cry.

-0-0-0-

Delphini was surprised to see Hermione at first, but she quickly got past it and gestured to her head.

"Oh!" Hermione smiled, stepped carefully over the clothes on the floor, and examined Delphini's head. "Don't worry. I've gotten brushes caught in my hair, too. I've even had handles break while I was brushing. The curse of thick, curly, bushy hair."

"My auntie used to get frustrated while doing my hair. Hers is perfect. Thin, straight, silky... she never has trouble with hers."

"More work doesn't mean worse!" said Hermione pleasantly. "It took me awhile to learn to manage mine, but I'll help you get there."

She first worked the stuck brush out of Delphini's hair, then motioned for the girl to sit on the bed. Hermione knelt behind her with the brush, her wand, and a look of determination. Thanks to a combination of magic and experience, Hermione was able to tame the girl's mane into two long French braids.

While she worked, they talked.

"I'm sorry if I was a bit rude at dinner," Delphini said quietly, glad they weren't making eye contact. "You won't tell my aunt, will you? I am supposed to be on my best behavior in public."

"Don't worry." Hermione tugged another strand of hair into the braid, crossing it over the part she was holding. "We weren't in public."

Delphini smiled, somewhat reassured. "She wants me to look perfect all the time so others can see we're better than them, but I don't feel better anymore."

"Feeling superior to other people is overrated." Hermione tied off the first braid. "Feeling your best is better."

-0-0-0-

"Henry said so many bad words I thought Mrs. Feingold's ears were going to fall off!" exclaimed Helena. She was telling Severus all about their put-upon babysitter, Eloise's mother, who hadn't enjoyed her two days of work for Hermione.

"Bad wohds," giggled Henry in confirmation. "Fuck whymes with twuck."

"I don't know whether to commend you for mastering the rhyme or to punish you for saying the word you know your mother hates to hear." Severus put a triangle of buttered toast on the boy's plate. "Though I have a feeling I know which she would prefer."

-0-0-0-

"Does it bother you?" asked Hermione as she started plaiting the other side. "I mean, does it bother you that I'm... that your father and I... that we're...?"

"I don't think so. I think... it's just... I don't know. I've only had my aunt and uncle before, you know? I don't remember my mother much. And now I have a father and..."

"And you're not sure you want to share him?"

Delphini shrugged one shoulder.

"I can understand. I recently saw my parents for the first time in over eleven years. They can't remember me – I had to Obliviate them during the war, and it couldn't be reversed – and while we were talking they told me they'd taken in a teenage girl they met in Australia. She was pregnant, her boyfriend left, and her parents disowned her. Now she lives nearby and they consider this young woman and her little boy their surrogate daughter and grandson. I know they don't remember me at all and they'll never know me again, but I couldn't help feeling like I didn't want to share them with that girl, and I'm a lot older than you are."

"That's so sad." Delphini fiddled with a little silver ring she wore on her middle finger. It twisted around from the base of her finger almost to her knuckle, with a snake's head at one end and a snake's tail at the other that did not connect to each other. Hermione had seen that ring before, on the index finger of the woman who left her forever marked by a word most wizards were too polite to even say.

"Do you miss your mother?" asked Hermione gently as she tied off the second braid. "Do you remember her?"

"Only a little." Delphini sniffled. "I always wished I could remember her more, but then I got to school... and the things the other girls were saying... they said such terrible things about her. And the Daily Prophet wrote such terrible things. And I... I don't want her to have been terrible. My auntie always talked about how beautiful she was, how brilliant, how talented, and fearless, and important. And powerful. My auntie didn't tell me she was crazy. Or that she'd been kidnapped away from Hogwarts. She didn't tell me the Dark Lord liked to hurt her or that she liked to hurt other people. She didn't even tell me how she died. She told me she was killed in battle, but that was all. Auntie didn't tell me she was bested in a duel by a sweet-tempered mild-mannered housewife because she was arrogant. That's how the Prophet put it."

"For what it's worth," said Hermione quietly, as Delphini turned to face her. "Molly Weasley should hardly be reduced to a sweet-tempered, mild-mannered housewife."

"Was she beautiful, though? You saw her. You saw her in person when she did... that." Delphini pressed her fingertip to Hermione's forearm, which was covered by her pajama sleeve. "I know you must have hated her for what she did, but surely you can tell me if she... if she was beautiful? She couldn't have been _all_ bad, could she?"

"You have her hair," said Hermione, wishing for the second time that she could think of something – anything – nice to say about Bellatrix Lestrange. "Her hair was as thick and dark and wild as yours and... and she..." Hermione had to close her eyes to get out her next sentence. "And yes, she was beautiful."

Delphini smiled, a shaky smile, and wiped her eyes with the dress of her BELLA doll.

"I have to finish getting ready. My father is taking me to see my auntie today. She's being moved to the convalescent center."

"I'll fetch him for you." Hermione stood, stretched, and handed the brush back to the girl. She was nearly to the door when she turned back. "Delphini?"

"Yes?"

"Please try not to focus so much on your mother. Who she is – _was_ – is not indicative of who you are. You can be whoever or whatever you wish to be. Clearly you have inherited both intellect and magical talent from both of your parents, which means you are abundantly gifted, and you can choose what to do with those gifts. As for your looks, and whether you look like your mother, and whether she was beautiful, she was, and you are, but looks are of little importance in the grand scheme of things. Simply put, they don't matter. It's who you are inside that does."

-0-0-0-

Narcissa settled comfortably into her new room, feeling better than she had in years, even though she still had a tendency to get a bit dizzy if on her feet for too long, and even though she wasn't happy to learn there was nothing Healers could do about the scarring on her throat.

Draco was with her as she was moved, of course, and only forty-five minutes into life in her temporary home she was ready to toss her son out a window without a broom.

"I am not an invalid!" she snapped as he attempted to fluff the pillow behind her back on her chair. "You've been fussing over me nonstop all morning!"

"I want to be certain you're comfortable, Mother!"

"I'd be considerably more comfortable if you'd stop trying to do everything for me! I am capable of adjusting my own bloody pillow. And lifting my own teacup to my lips. And using my own wand to Summon – Delphini!" Narcissa spotted the girl in the doorway. Behind her, looking exceptionally out of place (especially for a man who'd spent five years living on that very wing) was Severus. "Come in! My little love, I am furious about what happened to you at school. Tell me about those mean Gryffindor girls."

Narcissa held open her arms and the small eleven-year-old rushed to her, crawling up into her lap. She started to tell the tale, but Draco interjected.

"Mother! You cannot hold her like that! She's too heavy! You're too fragile! You'll..."

"Severus, would you mind taking Draco for a walk around the grounds? You're familiar with the place. Show him around. Take your time."

Severus was all-too eager to oblige, as being back inside these whitewashed walls surrounded by the sick, injured, and permanently addled somehow caused the area around the scar on his neck to throb, his back to seize up, and pain to flood into his extremities, as if he hadn't taken any of the Dragon's Nightshade poison that morning. He knew this was likely psychosomatic... but he could not stomach the sensation.

-0-0-0-

Severus and Delphini returned to his home on Spinner's End in the late afternoon. They changed into less formal attire and Flooed to Hermione's London flat. After an uneventful dinner, it was time to get ready for the Halloween party at the local library.

"Everyone is supposed to come in costume, dressed like their favorite literary characters!" explained Hermione, when Severus expressed dismay over the round black nose and whiskers she'd painted on her face with eyeliner pencil. She showed him the picture book from which she'd gotten the inspiration for her (and Hero's) look. He flipped through it quickly.

"Your favorite literary character is a mitten-less cat?" He cocked one eyebrow. "And here I thought you were sufficiently well-read, Ms. Granger."

"At least I'm not dressed as a vampire," she retorted, tugging at his long black frock coat. "Oh, wait, that's not a costume, that's how you dress."

"Ha-Ha." He rolled his eyes.

Helena, meanwhile, was trying to convince Delphini she absolutely _had_ to dress up too.

"I'm Matilda from Matilda!" Helena held it up to show the older girl the novel's cover. "See how my dress is blue, exactly like hers? And Mummy made me this!" She held up what looked like a pile of books, but made of soft felt. "It hangs off my belt to show everyone I love to read because Matilda loves to read! And there's a newt on my shoulder because there's a part in the book with a newt!"

"Good Night Twuck!" shouted Henry, showing off his picture book to Delphini. Using mostly cardboard and paint (and with a little help from her wand) Hermione had made him an impressive red truck costume, though it was hard for him to move while wearing it.

"Henry loves books about trucks," explained Helena. "That one isn't even his favorite. He doesn't have a favorite. He likes them all."

"My favorite book is Enter Three Witches: a History of Magical Women Who Changed the Wizarding World," said Delphini. "I suppose I can dress like a famous witch?"

"I have the perfect dress!" Hermione, overhearing their conversation (and abandoning the futile one with Severus, who insisted he'd rather get bitten by Nagini a second time than go to the Muggle library wearing a costume). She took Delphini by the arm and hurried her into the bedroom. When they again emerged, Severus took in a sharp breath.

The dress Hermione had chosen was mid-length, semi-fitted, and black, with three-quarter sleeves and a high collar. She'd purchased it for Reginald's funeral. On Delphini, it was floor-length and the sleeves went over her hands, just exposing her fingertips. She was wearing smoky eye makeup with dark burgundy lipstick, which Severus thought made her look far too old, and Hermione had undone the braids in her hair and brushed through it, leaving wild (but not tangled) curls. Lastly, Hermione had lent the girl a tall pointed witch's hat, the sort more commonly seen in Muggle cartoons than on actual witches.

The hat aside, Delphini bore an even more striking than usual resemblance to Bellatrix.

"Hermione says if anyone asks, I'm the Wicked Witch of the East." She pointed down at her feet, which were now donning sparkly red flats instead of her usual black ones. She was grinning. "I reckon this is part of it?"

"It's from The Wizard of Oz, a classic American film based on a book."

Delphini twirled around. "What do you think?"

Severus frowned. "I think you ought to enjoy wearing all that makeup tonight because it'll be ten years before you touch it again."

-0-0-0-

Draco had to return home to Astoria and Scorpius shortly after his cousin and godfather departed, as they had plans to have dinner with the Greengrasses that night.

Though she would never hurt his feelings by telling him so, Narcissa was glad to see him go. His doting and worrying was exhausting... and besides, she'd told Viktor she'd sneak him in after dark.

-0-0-0-

"What were you thinking? Not only does she look like her mother, but she looks fifteen years old! She looks like her mother at fifteen years old!"

"Did you know her mother at fifteen years old?"

"No, but... that's not the point!"

"You know," said Hermione, smiling mischievously. "You gave my son two biscuits when he should've been punished for using bad words. All I did was loan your daughter a little lip gloss and some eye-shadow. I think we're even."

Severus scowled, but a twinkle in his eye revealed that he, too, was in a teasing mood.

"Tonight, at the library, when the room is at highest capacity, I'm going to tell Henry he can scream the f-word to his heart's content, so long as before doing so he makes sure everyone knows you're his mother."

"You do that," said Hermione, "And assuming we're still together when she's fifteen, I'll give her permission to go out with boys you don't like. _Especially_ Gryffindors. _All_ the Gryffindors."

Severus let out an exaggerated gasp. "You wouldn't!"

Hermione shrugged, flittering her lashes at him, the very picture of (faux) innocence. "You'd just better hope my son is on his best behavior tonight, Severus Snape."

He placed one hand on her hip, drawing her close. "It's a good thing I love you, Hermione Granger. Because you're positively maddening."

"It's mutual." She tilted up her chin and was pleased when he responded by kissing her, as she'd hoped. "We'd better go or we'll miss ducking for apples."

"A travesty," he mused, leaning in for a second kiss.

-0-0-0-

Hero loved seeing other kids in costume.

Henry loved trying all the Muggle sweets.

Helena loved listening to Spooky Storytime.

And Delphini loved hanging out with three girls her age, none of whom had ever heard the name Bellatrix Lestrange.

"You go to boarding school?" asked one, a tall girl with dreadlocks dressed as a zombie Little Red Riding Hood. "I wish I did!"

"Is that your dad?" asked another, a blonde girl with freckles who was wearing a mint green outfit with red belt and bowtie. "His vampire costume is wicked!"

"Your parents let you wear makeup?" asked the third, a plump brunette with cats-eye glasses who called herself 'Ms. Frizzle.' "So jealous!"

-0-0-0-

There was something deliciously liberating about knowing she would soon be divorced, thus Narcissa threw herself into their lovemaking with such gusto he was the one to tire first, despite being twenty years younger than she.

"You may be too much for me, Narcissa," he joked in his thick Bulgarian accent as she lit up a cigarette, hoping the Healers wouldn't smell the smoke through the locked door of her private room.

Cigarettes, like sex and liquor, were strictly prohibited in the entire convalescent center.

But Narcissa didn't care.

She was all sorts of all done with following other people's rules.

"Viktor, pour me some of that wine you brought in."

-0-0-0-

"I made friends!" Delphini told Hermione and Severus in an excited whisper once they were back at the flat. Hero had fallen asleep and Henry looked ready to do the same at any second, but Helena was still wide awake and happy to listen.

"How many?" Helena asked. "What are their names?"

"Three of them! _Three_ friends! May, Emma, and Prudence! They want me to write them from Hogwarts and one asked for my Foam Number but I didn't know what that was so I said I didn't know it offhand, I hope that didn't seem odd, do you think that seemed odd? What's a Foam Number? I've never talked to Muggle girls before. Oh! What will Auntie say? Will she be upset if I make Muggle friends? Not even Muggle-born, but actual Muggles? Ah, who cares? I don't care! They _liked_ me!"

Severus lifted Henry and carried him into the bedroom, following Hermione holding Hero, while the girls continued to talk over the night in the sitting room.

Once both little ones were tucked into bed, Severus wrapped his arms securely around Hermione's waist.

"I can honestly say I've never spent a Halloween like this one before. It's odd to think that this is my first Halloween as a father, and it's to an eleven-year-old. And this is my first Halloween with you... first of many, I hope. And I hope it doesn't frighten you to hear me say that."

She brought her own arms up over his chest, clasping her hands behind his neck, and pressed her body flush against his. "You're a good father, Severus. No one who saw us there tonight would ever suspect that we were once thought to be on opposite sides of a war, or that I've been a struggling single mother and you're new to the world of fatherhood. Sometimes it's nice to simply feel like normal people."

"And to know it won't end up in the Prophet tomorrow."

"We hope." She kissed the corner of his lips and whispered his name. "Severus? It doesn't frighten me to hear you say it. I'm in love with you."

He returned the tender kiss, then buried her face in her hair, inhaling the sweet coconut scent of her shampoo.

"Hermione? I love you, too."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for all the follows, faves, and reviews, and thanks to everyone who is still reading this loooonnnnng fic! A special thanks in this chapter to thewinnowingwind who gave me the idea of Hermione and Delphini bonding through hair issues. I loved writing and adding their little scene in here and am thinking of one more similar one for later. I hope you all enjoyed this mostly fluffy little chapter! :) To those of you in America, Happy Fourth of July! And to those of you not in America, Happy Regular Tuesday! **-AL**


	48. Heartache and Shocks

**CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT**

 **End the heartache and the thousand natural shocks.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Around noon on Monday, Hermione and the children Flooed to Severus' home on Spinner's End for lunch.

Delphini could not have been more thrilled to see them.

"He's driving me bonkers!" she hissed at Hermione as she took baby Hero from her arms. "He's been sick since yesterday morning. I can't take it anymore! You have to do something!"

"Delphini?" called a weak, hoarse sounding voice from upstairs. "Delphini, is someone here? Is it – _cough_ – Hermione? Is Hermione – _cough_ – here? Can you bring up more – _cough_ – soup?"

"Fix. Him."

Hermione nodded. She told the children to be on their best behavior and took the stairs two at a time to Severus' room.

He was in bed, sprawled on his back atop the covers, staring at the ceiling, his hair sticky with sweat. He turned his face toward her. Her pulse quickened. This pose, combined with his paler-than-usual complexion and glassy eyes, reminded her of the way she'd found him in the Shrieking Shack during the Battle at Hogwarts, when she'd returned determined to save his life, whether he wanted her to or not.

"I've never – _cough, cough_ – been so sick in all my – _cough_ – life."

Setting aside the feeling of nonsensical panic, she hurried to his side and pressed the back of her hand to his dewy forehead.

"You're burning up!"

"No," he said. "I'm freezing. I would be – _cough_ – under the blankets but it takes too much effort to move." He coughed again, this time more violently, before adding, "I am dying."

She rolled her eyes and pressed her first two fingertips to either side of his neck. Sure enough, swollen glands. She then looked into his throat with the help of her wand and Lumos to find, as suspected, that it was red and irritated. On the floor to his left were perhaps a hundred discarded tissues that he couldn't be bothered to banish to the bin. Hermione smiled sympathetically.

"You've got a cold. You'll live."

"No. Dying."

"A fever, a sore throat, congestion, and a cough. You're not dying."

"Dying!" He struggled to sit up. "I need to dictate my will."

"Dictate your will?" She couldn't help laughing. "Haven't you ever had a cold before?"

He shook his head miserably, glaring at her for her apparent amusement over his suffering. He sniffled. "Never."

Hermione knew that wizarding children often suffered from sicknesses quite unlike those that plagued their Muggle counterparts, and vice-versa, since Severus had never gone to a Muggle school or had friends aside from Lily, she supposed it was possible he'd never had the common cold.

"What is it?" he whispered hoarsely. "This cold? Is it fatal?" He launched into another coughing fit, followed by three sneezes in quick succession. "How much time do I have left?"

"You. Are not. Dying! A cold generally resolves itself in a couple of days. A week, tops. You may even feel better by tomorrow."

"A week?!" The shock of it made him start hacking again. "I shall not survive!"

"You survived what should have been a lethal snakebite. You survived two terrible wars. You survived having made the Unbreakable Vow. You survived five years cooped up alone in this house in constant pain. I think you can survive three days of coughing, fever, sore throat, and..."

He sneezed.

"And a stuffy nose."

"No," he insisted (though it sounded like "doe").

She brushed his hair back, off of his sticky forehead, and smiled maternally. "You're fine."

"No." He coughed again, closed his eyes, and relaxed against his pillow. "I'm dying."

-0-0-0-

Draco was, to say the least, not happy.

"Mother! Healer Smythley told me... she told me... she told me you were caught... caught with contraband... and... and... and a _man_ in your room! Cigarettes, liquor, and ss... se... seh..." He couldn't vocalize what she had been caught doing. "And _with a man!_ What were you bloody thinking? Did that knife to your throat addle your brain?"

"Draco, love, you seem confused." She rubbed her temples. She had a slight hangover and had been in a bad mood ever since that blasted Healer had barged in early that morning, only to find her on her back under Viktor (covered by a sheet, thank Merlin!) and had subsequently discovered an empty bottle of elf-made wine and several cigarette butts. The Healer had hit the roof, thrown Viktor out, and contacted Draco.

"Confused about what?"

"I am the parent. You are the child. I lecture, you listen. Not the other way around."

" _Mother_!" His face purpled. She was correct, of course, but that didn't mean he couldn't express his extreme displeasure over her behavior anyway. "You were... he was... I mean... _Viktor Krum!_ Merlin's beard, he's practically my age!"

"He's a couple of years older than you are."

"And you're married!"

"Not for much longer."

"And he's a famous Quidditch Seeker!"

"Have you something against fellow Seekers?"

"And he's practically my age!"

"You said that already."

"It bears repeating!" Draco threw up his hands in exasperation. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking, I've been locked up for weeks and weeks and now that I'm not, I rather fancied a drink, a fag, and a sh–"

"Don't say 'shag!'"

"A _shag._ Which, by the by, that Healer rudely interrupted. It's not the first time that's happened though. You did the same thing countless times when you were a toddler. I explained it away by telling you we were merely hugging. I wish I could've used the same explanation for Delphini when she caught you with Astoria, but by age nine she was a bit harder to fool than you were at two..."

"Augh!" Draco closed his eyes and covered his ears like a child, unwilling to think about... _that._ "You're killing me, Mother!"

-0-0-0-

Hermione brought Severus soup while lunch for the children was cooking. Once he'd consumed what she considered to be a sufficient amount, she helped him under the blankets, kissed his burning forehead, and told him she'd be going out (kids in tow) to buy Muggle medicine, since it seemed he'd contracted a Muggle sickness.

He was quick to blame his impending death on a sneezing, wheezing boy Henry had played with at the library party, but Hermione was equally quick to point out that if the boy was the source of the cold, Henry would likely have it too, thus he had to be incorrect.

An hour later, while wandering a Muggle supermarket with four cranky children trailing behind her, Hermione realized she would have to eat her words.

"Mummy! I not feels good!" exclaimed Henry. He rubbed his nose and coughed. She sighed and felt his forehead, already knowing what she'd discover: it was as hot as the professor's had been. She asked Delphini to hold Hero's hand, lifted Henry, held his face against her shoulder, and urged the girls not to walk too close to them, lest they pick up on the germs too. Hero wouldn't walk since her brother no longer had to, thus Delphini picked her up, but she then wriggled and whined, as it was her nap time and she was more than ready for it. Meanwhile Delphini struggled to keep her eyes open, as she'd been up half the night worrying about her "dying" father. Helena was in decent spirits at first, but apparently the attitudes of the others rubbed off on her and by the time they got into the checkout queue even she was snippy and grumpy.

Once back at home, Hermione sent the girls into the backyard with strict orders to avoid the Devil's Nightshade, measured out one kid-sized portion of medicine and one adult-sized dose, and hovered a tray of it (along with tea and toast) upstairs with Henry on her hip.

"Here, drink this," she commanded, handing the cup of fever-reducing cough syrup to Severus. She had Henry do the same, then set Henry down in the bed beside the former Hogwarts Headmaster.

"This is now officially the Home Hospital Ward. You are not allowed to leave here except to use the loo as we want to keep the illness isolated so that no one else catches it. I'll bring you dinner in a few hours. In the interim, rest. Sleep if possible. And drink plenty of water."

"I don't – _cough_ – have any water!" Severus indicated the empty cup on his bedside table. Hermione tapped the tip of his wand, which was beside it.

"Are you not a wizard? Aquamenti!" The cup filled itself. She did the same with a sippy cup for Henry, which she placed on his side.

She also gave them a bell that they could ring to summon her as needed.

For the first hour, they 'needed' her every thirty seconds. (Or so it seemed.)

So she Vanished the bell.

Finally, by dinnertime, both Severus and Henry were asleep. She cooked a simple meal and gathered the girls around the table.

But Hero couldn't eat.

She had a fever.

-0-0-0-

Lucius could not identify the man who had abducted him. Healers tried to extract his memories of the past several weeks only to find much in his mind had been damaged by mediocre memory charms, seemingly placed every time Lucius was about to identify the man in his hideout. They were able, with help from the two Aurors who'd been trying to track the wizard down, to determine that the one who placed the Imperius Curse upon him was a male, approximately twenty-five to forty years of age, with brown hair and a lean build, but could not even garner enough specifics to come up with a decent sketch of him for the Daily Prophet.

Soon, the Wizangamot would have to decide whether Lucius would be charge for the sexual assault and attempted murder of his wife. Lucius, Draco, and, to the Aurors' surprise, Narcissa were all against such charges, but unless they could prove he was under the influence of the Curse at the time of the attack, it seemed likely he would be headed back to Azkaban once his recovery was complete.

At noon on November first, he was officially removed as Head of the Hogwarts Board of Governors.

Bill Weasley took his place.

-0-0-0-

Hermione made the executive decision to spend the night at Spinner's End. She set up a bed for Helena in Delphini's room to keep the healthy kids separated from the non-healthy ones, though she would be sharing a room with sick baby Hero, who was now suffering from the same cough and runny nose Severus and Henry had.

Tuesday was the same as Monday, though Severus was feeling better enough to read to and comfort Henry, who wanted to be cuddled until his cold was gone, and to stop lamenting about his various ailments, but not well enough to be up and about, save for a shower before bed.

No one slept well Tuesday night, including Helena and Delphini, who both took ill sometime between bedtime Monday and lunchtime Tuesday, and finally, around eight Wednesday morning, Hermione gave up. Hero was finally snoozing in her crib, so she decided to sneak down to the kitchen for a quiet cup of tea before anyone else was awake.

She had just reached the bottom landing when the wards signaled someone was approaching the front stairs. This was followed by a loud, imposing knock.

Without even bothering to look out the window first, she flung open the door, wand at the ready, and hissed, "Everyone in this house is bloody ill and if you wake them up, so help me, I'll end you!"

The shocked brown eyes of freckle-faced ginger Ronald Weasley stared back at her, his mouth gaping open stupidly. Beside him stood his brother, Bill.

"Er, hello, Hermione," said the latter, clearly equally surprised, but better able to recover from it. "Might we come in?"

-0-0-0-

Charlotte Montague's father, Graham, was thoroughly disappointed to learn that Delphini Black was not the daughter of the Dark Lord.

He'd rather hoped she, being the progeny of Bellatrix Lestrange and Lord Voldemort, would be the leader their side had been longing for since the Dark Lord's fall. To learn the truth had been a terrible disappointment.

Thus when a fellow member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors came to him seeking support to stop the young girl from returning to school in January, he thought it would be wise to concur, to avoid suspicion, especially as news of a potential Pureblood uprising plan had recently been leaked by an as-yet-unidentified mole. No need to take up for Delphini now.

Or to take up for her _ever._

Especially since the girl was a Snape.

Graham Montague didn't want the child of a traitor sharing a dorm with his daughter.

-0-0-0-

"Ronald Weasley! And Bill!" exclaimed Hermione, louder than she meant to. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk," answered Bill. "It's imperative. May we come in?"

Yes, please, quietly," said Hermione, opening the door wider to grant the Weasley brothers entrance. She led them into the sitting room. "Could I get you a drink?"

"What are you doing here?" asked Ron, looking pained. "The Prophet said you'd stopped seeing Snape! They reported you're with Macmillan now. He's a prat, but at least he's not... you know... Snape."

"The Daily Prophet was incorrect," she said through gritted teeth. "I had lunch with Ernie as a thank you for having done me a favor, but Severus and I are..." Her gaze darted toward the opening in the bookshelves, the doorway to the stairs and hall. "We're quite happy together, thank you."

She sat in the rocking chair, which she moved toward the center of the room, in front of the fireplace. They settled on either end of the couch, facing her. She summoned over three bottles of butterbeer, since it was too early for wine and she didn't feel like making them tea.

"Since you didn't expect me to be here, Ronald, why are _you_ here?"

"We brought this." Bill held out a thick roll of parchment. Hermione took it and began unraveling.

"It's a petition. Signatures from all First Year Gryffindor parents, most parents of older Gryffindors, about half of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff parents across all years, and even four signatures from Slytherin parents, including from two First Years, and a slight minority of board members, plus one faculty member."

"Petitioning what, exactly?"

"To reverse the staff and board's decision to permit Delphini Black to return to Hogwarts after the Christmas holiday." Bill popped open his butterbeer. "She attacked my daughter."

"The way I heard it, your daughter attacked her first."

"C'mon, 'Mione!" said Ron, placing his bottle on the short table between them. "Be reasonable! Look at it from Bill's perspective! Victoire was just having a little fun with the girl, no harm done, and then she got hit in the back with the Cruciatus Curse! She had to go to St. Mungo's!"

"A little fun? No harm done?" Hermione could feel the heat rising from her fingertips, up her arms, through her shoulders, and into her face. "Victoire and her friends were mercilessly bullying Delphini! They'd been doing it since she arrived! Three on one! All because of who her mother is and who her father was suspected to be! You're on the board, Bill. You were one of those pushing to bar her from entering before she'd even stepped foot on Platform 9¾! This is as much your fault as anyone else's. Your daughter started school thinking Delphini didn't belong there and spent the next six weeks trying to torture her out."

"Torture? Torture!" Bill leapt to his feet. "My daughter wasn't the one using an Unforgivable Curse in the Great Hall! My daughter wasn't the one whose mother–"

"Whose mother what?" interrupted Hermione. "Whose mother was killed by your mother?"

"My mother did it to protect you, Ginny, and Luna!" snapped Ron, sloshing some of the butterbeer he'd been about to sip down his shirt. "What's happened to you, Hermione? Has Snape brainwashed you? Have you forgotten who you are?"

"I did forget who I was for awhile," Hermione admitted. "But Severus helped me remember. I am the sort of person who stands up for those who need protection, and that includes Delphini, a child who should not be punished for the sins of her mother."

"I wish to speak with Professor Snape about this," said Bill. He looked her up and down as she tried not to feel uncomfortable about the fact that she was wearing a pair of pajama pants and one of Severus' shirts. He made no comment about her attire. "Please wake him."

"I'll do no such thing. He's sick. He's sick and all four of the children are sick. I'm not going to bother him for this bit of nonsense. Hogwarts' staff and board made the decision to let the girl return and return she shall. She deserves an education, the same as everyone else. And she deserves to feel safe–"

"What about my Victoire? Doesn't she deserve to feel safe?"

"She _is_ safe. She's not the one who has been under attack and regarded with suspicion by board members and the Daily Prophet and students and teachers and random members of the greater Wizarding community, simply because of whom she was born to! You're worried about your family and I understand that, Bill, but please understand that I am equally worried about mine. Delphini is a sweet, bright girl, but she doesn't have Victoire's circle of friends or popularity with professors or famous _good_ name. She doesn't even have a mother. She was raised by her aunt and uncle – an uncle who abused her aunt – and now that she's away from all that, all she wants is to be accepted and to be loved and to make friends and to learn! Your daughter took that away from her. She made sure no one would want to be her friend, she kept alive the rumor that her father was the Dark Lord, and she even stole one of her textbooks and bullied her in classes, which negatively impacted her learning... especially the Mandrake incident!"

"Victoire assures me that the Mandrake incident was an accident. Bellatrix's daughter's accusations are without merit. But even if it were true, to respond with an Unforgivable Curse to the back-"

"I am certainly not saying Victoire deserved to be cursed in that way – she didn't, no one does – but I _am_ asking for your compassion and empathy. Delphini won't do it again. She has inherited only the best of her mother and father, she is absolutely no danger to anyone, and she deserves an education!"

Bill and Ron sat side by side in stunned silence; Bill's lips were pressed together in a thin line, whereas Ron's mouth was again gaping stupidly.

"What?" snapped Hermione. "What is it?"

"You called him the Dark Lord, Hermione," said Ron, looking at her as if he'd never seen her before. "You didn't call him Voldemort or You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or even Tom Riddle. You called him the Dark Lord. You said there was a rumor that her father was the Dark Lord."

"So?"

"So? So maybe you're one of them, now."

Her cinnamon brown eyes flashed dangerously. "One of who, precisely?"

"Like Snape and the Malfoys and Bellatrix. One of _them_." Ron shook his head in disbelief. "You're not the Hermione I married."

"I _am_ the Hermione you married," she argued. "I'm not the Hermione you divorced."

-0-0-0-

At some point during the night, Helena abandoned the trundle bed Hermione had transfigured for her and crawled under the covers next to Delphini, who awoke around two in the morning surprised to find she wasn't alone, but even more surprised to find she didn't mind.

She knew it was probably silly, since she'd only known her father since August and had only met Hermione and the children a week ago, but she couldn't help thinking she wouldn't mind it if the two adults got married, giving her a stepmother and three little siblings. Even though she'd always considered Draco her older brother, they were so far apart in age it wasn't as if they'd ever played together or shared a room or did any other other things her aunt Cissy and aunt Andromeda had done with her mother.

Delphini fell back to sleep and awoke again when she heard knocking downstairs. She crept to the doorway of her bedroom, and listened.

It was Victoire's father,, Mr. Weasley. There was only one possible reason _he_ would be here. Hogwarts must be one step closer to kicking her out.

Well, fine.

She wasn't going to like going back there anyway. Not when her whole suddenly forming family would be here and in London without her. Not to be surrounded by mean girls like Victoire and the Wood sisters and Piper and Charlotte.

Unable to hear anything more, as the adults must have moved into the sitting room, she returned to the bed, hugged her BELLA doll, and smiled down at sleeping Helena, who could very well turn out to be the little sister she'd secretly always wanted.

It certainly wouldn't be the worst thing, being expelled.

-0-0-0-

Ronald and Bill left shortly thereafter.

Before departing, Bill said it was with regret for her plight but with the confidence he was doing the right thing that he would be presenting the petition at the next board meeting, at which representatives from the Ministry would be in attendance.

Then Ron asked Hermione how she could possibly be in love with "that hooked-nosed, greasy, miserable old git" who'd been so cruel to them as children.

"I told you before, that's not who he is," said Hermione. "I know him, and I love him, and your unfavorable opinion of him has absolutely no bearing on that."

Once they were gone and the door was sufficiently locked and warded, Hermione decided to forgo the tea in favor of a long, hot shower. She had only been in the loo a matter of seconds, though, when someone knocked softly on the door. She opened it with a disappointed sigh, expecting to find a needy child on the other side, but instead Severus was there.

"I was listening," he said as his hands went to her waist. One slipped to her arse, squeezing it, moving her closer to him. "I heard what you said to Weasley and his dunderhead brother. What you said about me, and about Dephini."

"Oh?" Her eyes met his. Hers were full of questions. His, of desire. She stroked his cheek. "And what did you think of what I said?"

"I think I love you," he growled. His lips captured hers. Before she could even register what she was doing, she accepted the kiss and pulled him into the bathroom, closing the door behind them. "I love you... I love you..." He said again and again as he kissed her over and over - her lips, her chin, her cheeks, her neck - while his hands ran up and down her sides, desperate to feel her for the first time in a month. "I love you, Hermione."

"Are you feeling better?" she asked once her mouth was free. She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. Perfectly cool.

"Yes," he confirmed. "And I need you."

The door was locked. The room was silenced. Clothes were quickly discarded. They stumbled to, and then into, the shower, though the water was not yet on.

His body was flush against hers. Her back was flush to the cool tile wall.

"I need you," he moaned as his hands and lips and tongue explored her. "I need you, now."

"Yes," she murmured over and over, digging her short nails lightly into the back of his shoulder, her other hand on his hip. This overwhelming desire he had for her, coupled with the feeling of his naked body against hers for the first time in nearly a month and the awareness of his arousal growing against her thigh, made her pulse quicken and her heart race. She took his hand and slid it between her legs. He groaned, rubbing her with his fingers, rejoicing in her mutual arousal.

"I'm ready for you, Severus," she whispered.

Using wandless magic, he summoned over a vial from the pocket of his discarded pajama pants and placed it against her palm. Birth control potion.

"Let me have you here," he said. "Now."

"Yes." She uncorked it and downed the entire dosage in one gulp, tossing the empty vial to the rug outside the tub.

He'd already taken both the pain potion and a dose of Pepper Up Potion, and despite having been on his "deathbed" three days prior, he currently felt he could do anything, thus he lifted her leg, with his hand on her thigh, entered her, and then lifted the other leg so both were wrapped securely around his waist, and began to thrust - a position they'd thus far not managed, as it required strength and balance he had not, until recently, had enough of. She kept one arm around his shoulders and the other under his hair, scritching at the back of his neck, with her pelvis tilted at precisely the right angle. She'd never done it like this before... but she liked it.

"Oh, fuck, yes..." she moaned. "I love you, Severus. I love you."

He held her up by clutching her upper thighs and massaged her tongue with his, nipping at her lower lip, enjoying the feel of her breasts against his chest, her hardened nipples tickling his skin. He was sweating, but not from fever, and so was she, as they moved together, clinging to each other, whispering and moaning and exchanging declarations of love.

He heard those words coming into his head, the ones she claimed he'd said a month ago, the ones he didn't remember having said... _Marry me, Hermione. Marry me..._ He kissed her hard to keep himself from accidentally saying those words out loud. He believed her now. He believed he'd said it, because he wanted to say it. He wanted so badly to say it.

He wanted so badly for her to say yes.

He wanted her to be his wife.

"I love you," he said instead, growled directly into her ear, his lips brushing against her earlobe, her sweet-smelling hair in his face.

"I love you, too," she assured him, closing her eyes, thinking about how lovely it would be to live with him, to not have to return to that tiny flat in London, to raise their children together like a family... perhaps even have one of their own... but she wasn't ready for that. They weren't ready for that. Not yet. They couldn't be... no matter how much she wanted it.

She felt her climax building and could tell he, too, was getting close. She kept one arm around his shoulders and slipped her opposite hand down between them, to rub over her clit, to get her to completion. It took only seconds.

"Yes!" she cried out, her breathing erratic, her entire body tingling and spasming as she rode out her release. "Yes, Severus, yes!"

He grunted and groaned once more as he came inside her. Once he was able, he carefully set her down and leaned against her, too weak to move, waiting for his heart rate to slow.

"I love you, Hermione."

"I love you, too, Severus." She hugged her arms around the waist, her forehead against his chest. After several moments, she reached past him to turn on the water. "I'm going to take a shower. Care to join me?"

He laughed.

"I thought you'd never ask."

-0-0-0-

Persephone Rosier paid her cousin Narcissa Black Malfoy an unexpected visit on Thursday morning.

"Seph!" Narcissa exclaimed, rising from her easy chair to greet the slender, raven-haired professor. "I haven't seen you since I got married. I was pleasantly surprised to receive your letter last week. Thank you for coming."

"I should have written years ago. It's been too long," said Persephone, embracing the younger woman. "But when I heard you were going to be joining us in January, I knew I had to come see you first. How has Delphini been? She's such a talented girl. Very much like her mother."

"She's like Bella in some ways," agreed Narcissa, "But completely unlike her in others. Cigarette?"

"Please!" Persephone took one, placed it between her lips, and lit it with the end of her wand. After taking a long drag and letting the smoke out slowly, she sighed. "I had no idea you still smoked, Cissy. I gave you your first one, remember? On a Hogsmeade visit, your third year, my seventh. You and Andromeda and I slipped off behind Honeydukes with two of my friends and one of hers to smoke and drink firewhiskey. Andromeda wanted you to go away, she was afraid you'd tattle, but when you wouldn't leave I insisted you smoke one too, then have a drink, so you couldn't tell on us without getting yourself in trouble."

"I ended up smoking six or seven of them, trying to blow smoke rings, chased down by two shots of that awful, cheap whiskey, and then I threw up."

"You said you'd never smoke again."

Narcissa chuckled. "Believe it or not, I didn't. I've only just started. Lucius hates cigarettes, always has. He hates the smell. So a few days ago I told him I was leaving, asked my good-looking young lover to pick me up a pack, signed the contract for my first-ever job, and started my new life as a free woman."

"I'm happy for you, Cissy." Persephone, unable to resist showing off, made an O with her lips and blew out a ring of smoke, as she used to when they were teenagers. Both women laughed. Then Seph configured the end table into a chair, sat opposite her long-estranged cousin, and leaned forward, eager for gossip, as if no time had passed at all. "So... tell me about this good-looking young lover of yours."

-0-0-0-

On Thursday afternoon, when everyone was outside in the garden save for Delphini, who'd run in to use the loo, there was a knock at the door.

She opened it.

No one was there.

But on the top step was a ripped sheet of parchment, held down by a small stone.

And on the parchment were the words, _"I have no joy in this contract tonight. It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden. Too like the lightning... I will come again."_

She furrowed her brow. What could this mean?

She suddenly felt as though she was being watched. She stepped to the bottom of the stairs, her eyes darting from home to home to the woods beyond on this dead end of Spinner's End. Was that movement, there between the trees? A fox, perhaps? Or an owl?

Or, perhaps, the writer of this mysterious message?

She began to wiggle, and, remembering she had to Go, she hurried back inside and up the stairs to the bathroom, shoving the parchment in her pocket.

By the time she rejoined the others outside, she'd already forgotten about it.

-0-0-0-

By Thursday night, the children were feeling better and Hermione didn't seem as though she'd be catching what they'd all had (by nothing short of a miracle, she figured) thus they decided to take a trip to the local park to watch the fireworks in honor of Guy Fawkes day.

Severus explained that as a child he could see them from the roof of his home, so he used to sneak up there shortly before sunset with a blanket, a few snacks, and a book to read until it got too dark. He'd invited Lily to join him a couple of times, but her family always attended the local funfair, which her parents wouldn't let her miss.

This year, for the first time in his nearly fifty years, he would be attending the funfair and watching the fireworks from a picnic blanket on the ground rather than on the roof above his bedroom.

It was a cool evening, but not cold. They bundled up the younger children in matching Muggle jumpers (blue for Helena, red for Henry, yellow for Hero) and jeans, like miniature Hermiones (her jumper was purple). Delphini wore a long-sleeved wool frock dress, gray and white, with thick black tights underneath and Severus wore nothing but black, of course.

"We must buy brighter colors for you two," teased Hermione as they were heading out.

"I'd prefer it if we purchased more muted colors for the four of you instead," replied Severus, smiling.

They walked to the park, with Hermione describing for them the history of Guy Fawkes. Once there, the excited children wanted to check out everything. They loved the various rides, including swing boats, a Chair-o-Plane, and the Helter Skeltor lighthouse slip. They laughed, delighted in the appearances of those wearing masks or odd clothing (save for Helena, who found the masks scary) and ate a variety of unhealthy foods Hermione typically did not allow.

"Mummy, that man with the mask is following us!" Helena whispered urgently to Hermione, who was grinning while watching Severus on a swing boat with Henry and Delphini (He looked dizzy and out of place, but also like he was enjoying himself). "Mummy? I've seen that man everywhere."

"You only think you have, love, because so many men are wearing the same mask, but don't worry, no one is following us, I promise."

"Alright," said Helena... but she clung tightly to the bottom of her mother's jumper.

-0-0-0-

The mask hid his scar and his face perfectly. He'd been able to trail the little faux family all afternoon, but he never managed to get close enough.

He wasn't even certain what he planned to do exactly. His initial plan had been ruined many times over, and now that Lucius had been admitted to St. Mungo's, it was only a matter of time before it was all pieced together. Surely he'd end up in prison, or, worse, given the Dementor's Kiss.

He'd only wanted to get revenge and get his family back, but it was becoming clearer by the second that his second goal would not be achieved. It was clear from the way she held his arm and smiled up at him, the way he pressed his lips to her cheek, the way they laughed and chatted with the four children.

No, she was lost to him. A lost cause.

And that hurt.

He supposed he deserve it, though, and would have to accept that she'd moved on.

But the longer he watched, the more he hated this man stepping into his place, this man playing Father to his two children.

It wasn't fair.

His own parents had barely been there for him growing up. With Hermione, he'd finally felt like he had a family.

Then Lucius Malfoy had broken it.

And now Severus Snape was stealing it.

'Let them be together, then,' he thought bitterly. 'Let them raise his bastard dark-eyed daughter and her bastard blonde baby together, the illegitimate children of devout Death Eaters, and let them marry and have more children, and let them live happily ever after...'

But he'd be damned if they lived that Happily Ever After with _his_ children between them.

-0-0-0-

The sun went down.

The fireworks show began.

Hero was especially delighted by the spectacle. She jumped with surprised at every boom, then giggled and clapped, her gray eyes bright and full of wonder.

 _BOOM_

"Mo, Mumma!" she cried, asking for more whenever there was even the slightest lull. She was plopped in her mother's lap on the picnic blanket. Severus sat beside Hermione with Delphini to his left. Henry and Helena were settled in front of them.

A purple firework. A blue. A red and gold. A green. Each bookended by booms, as they were shot into the air in such quick succession it was difficult to discern whether each loud crack went with the sparkling fiery light before it, or after.

It was Delphini who noticed the man first, hiding nearby, behind a tree. He was holding a wand. But that was odd. This was a Muggle town. Aside from her father, no wizards lived here.

He raised his wand.

 _BOOM_

A green firework. A silver-green firework. A firework that took a familiar shape...

"The Dark Mark!" shouted Delphini, scrambling to her feet. "Morsmordre!"

Hermione was taken aback by two things at once. First, that the Dark Mark had indeed just appeared in the sky above them, and two, that Delphini knew the incantation necessary to summon it. She, too, hurried to her feet, Hero in her arms. Helena, who saw the masked man approaching, clung to her mother, but Henry's eyes were only on the sky.

No one else in the park seemed to know there was a problem. But of course they wouldn't. To them, the serpent and skull was naught but an odd and impressive firework, a trick of light and smoke, without meaning.

 _BOOM_

Fire.

Hot ashy debris from one of the fireworks had fallen into the tree that hid the man, or so it seemed... but the man was no longer there. Other people were rising now. There were screams.

Chaos.

Severus had his wand out, not caring who might see. Hermione reached for hers, but she had Hero on her hip and Helena trying to grab for her hand.

Henry took off toward the burning tree, wanting to see a piece of firework up close... or perhaps compelled to that place by an unseen force.

"Henry!" shouted Hermione. She moved to hurry after him, but a family closer to the tree seemed to think the Snape/Granger picnic blanket was the direct path to safety. They ran across it, cutting the little blended family in half, and for a second, Hermione also lost sight of Helena.

"Henry?" said Severus. He glanced down. The boy had just been there a second ago! He looked to his left and saw Delphini streaking off at top speed toward the woods, dodging fleeing families, and the dry, dead leaves of the tree allowed the fire to spread quickly. "Delphini!"

She heard a crack. The crack of apparition – she would know it anywhere – and there was the man. He was wearing the Guy Fawkes mask, but she could tell from his attire he was the one Helena pointed out to her earlier, the one Helena said Hermione had earlier insisted hadn't been following them.

"Don't tell Mummy," Helena had whispered. "But I think she's wrong."

Delphini grabbed a stick from the ground and pointed it to the man, who was reaching toward Henry. "Don't move! I know how to use the Cruciatus Curse!"

The man froze like a deer within sight of a hunter, but relaxed upon realizing she was wandless. "This isn't your concern, little girl."

"Who ah you?" asked Henry, now more curious about the man than about the escaped firework.

"Don't you remember me, Henry?" The man removed his mask. He was clean shaven, but had an unsightly scar, and his hair and eyes were the mirror image of the boy's. "I'm your father. I'm Dad."

"No," said Henry. "Daddy died."

"No, Henry. That was a mistake. I was hurt. I was hurt badly. But I did not die. I'm here. I'm here to take you home."

"There they are!" shouted Severus.

Helena screamed, unwilling to take another step. "That's the scary man!"

"No!" Hermione gasped. "Henry? Henry!"

The man looked up.

They made eye contact.

Though she had seen many ghosts during her time at Hogwarts, she had never personally known anyone to truly come back from the dead.

And yet...

"Let's go!" the scary man grabbed Henry by the arm.

Just before they disapparated, Delphini leapt forward, grasping the man firmly around the leg. He tried to kick her off but there was no time...

Severus lifted Helena around the waist and aimed his wand. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Hermione's was raised, too. Still carrying Hero on her hip, she called out, "Stupify!"

The spells were sent but a second too late.

There was another loud crack.

And they were gone.


	49. A Rash and Bloody Deed

**CHAPTER FORTY-NINE**

 **What a rash and bloody deed is this.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Narcissa had gone to bed early on November fifth, but awoke with a start only two hours later.

She summoned the night nurse. Loudly.

"Are you trying to wake the dead?" the plump, tired-looking seventy-year-old snapped upon entering. "People on this ward are trying to sleep!"

"Something is wrong," Narcissa informed the woman, not at all apologetic for her shouting. "I can feel it."

The night nurse checked her over, changed her dressing, and assured her they'd not had any word from her family regarding possible issues. She turned to go.

"But something is _wrong!"_ Narcissa insisted, reaching out toward her. "I haven't had this feeling since my sister died."

"Your sister died in the midst of an ugly war's final battle," said the mediwitch in a bored tone. "Of course you had a bad feeling then."

"But I have a bad feeling now!"

"You likely had a nightmare. Possibly about your sister. One you can't remember. That's all."

"No!" Narcissa shook her head vehemently. "I am positive something is wrong. I did not have a nightmare. I have a... a feeling. Mother's intuition. Could you send my son a Patronus?"

"At this time at night? It's nearly ten!"

"Please? I won't be able to go back to sleep until I'm certain nothing's happened."

The nurse rolled her eyes. "Very well. I will return your wand to you, but only for the purpose of a Patronus, then it's going back into lockdown until you can manage forty-eight hours without getting caught with contraband." She shuffled out.

"Taking my damn wand away because I was caught with cigarettes and wine a few times. Bloody ridiculous policy," Narcissa muttered. "Worse than Hogwarts. When I got caught drunk and reeking of smoke third year, all I got were a week's detentions."

Narcissa tapped her long nails on the wooden rail of her bed.

It seemed to take forever for the old woman to return.

Narcissa's feeling of foreboding grew with every moment.

-0-0-0-

"Where'd they go?" asked Helena in a small, terrified voice. "Why'd he take Henry?"

"I don't know," answered Severus. Hermione was unable to speak. Unable to move. Around them, the fire was raging. The Muggle fire brigade was arriving to put it out. The area was being evacuated.

"They're not here, Hermione," said Severus, moving her toward the exit. "Come on, we'll figure out how to find them from home."

"My son," she whispered, in an obvious state of shock. "He took my son."

"Yes," said Severus. "But Delphini is with him..." It hurt his heart to say this, to think of how brave she'd been, grabbing at the man's leg as he was disapparating. Wherever they'd gone, he could only hope Delphini was still with them, that she hadn't been shaken off somewhere... and that Reginald Park would not harm her. He also regretting not having defied the Ministry and gotten his daughter a wand to replace the one they'd destroyed. "Delphini will take care of Henry."

"Your daughter." Hermione let out a choked sob. "He took your daughter."

"It's alright, right this way," said a fireman, directing them. "We'll put it out, no need to cry, madam."

"My brother and sister are gone," said Helena. She clung to Severus, as if afraid he might drop her. "They disappeared."

"What's this? Missing kids?"

"We've gotten separated, that's all," explained Severus, trying to keep calm, completely missing that Helena had called Delphini her sister. "My daughter is eleven and her son is three. They're together."

"Names? What they look like?"

Though he knew it was highly unlikely Park would return with the children, Severus gave the man a quick description of Delphini with her curly black hair, small frame, heavy-lidded eyes, and gray frock, and Henry, with his dusty brownish-blond hair, brown eyes, pudgy belly, and bright red jumper.

Hermione remained unable to speak.

The firefighter took down their address and assured them he would be in contact if the children turned up.

Once back at the home on Spinner's End, to which they apparated, Hermione broke down. She set Hero on the floor and collapsed to her knees beside her, sobbing. Severus set Helena down and tried to comfort his lover, but his mind was racing. How would they find the children? There wasn't time to cry and carry on. Surely Reginald Park had a hideout somewhere, a place he'd been staying these six or seven months since his apparently faked death.

"Delphini gave me this," said Helena, holding out a piece of torn parchment. "It fell out of her pocket at the funfair so she asked me to hold it in mine. Maybe it tells where they are."

"Thank you, Helena," said Severus. He took the parchment but did not read the words on it, as it was silly to think this little scrap of paper from his daughter's pocket would hold any meaning. He set it down on the sitting room table and knelt beside Hermione, rubbing her back as she, bent over so her forehead was nearly to the floor, continued to cry uncontrollably. He needed a moment to think.

-0-0-0-

"What were you thinking?" Reginald shoved the girl away from him. "You're Snape's girl?"

"That's right." She puffed up her chest and jutted out her chin. "And my mother is Bellatrix Lestrange. And she made me an expert in all sorts of dangerous wandless magic, including the Cruciatus Curse, so if you know what's good for you, you'll let us go before you get hurt!"

"Full of false bravado, I see. You must be a Gryffindor."

She bristled at this. "No. Slytherin."

"Ah. I was in Hufflepuff myself, but only because by the time I started at Hogwarts I was in my sixth year and Hufflepuff was the only House that had a free bed. I was never properly Sorted."

"Why not?" Delphini inched closer to Henry, figuring if she could keep the man talking, she could grab the little boy and apparate them away... it couldn't be that difficult, could it? She'd been side-along apparated countless times by her father, aunt, and cousin. She wondered if there was an incantation one had to think while doing it or if it was simply like using the Floo, making sure to correctly state the place and get out at the right grate. "Why did you start so late?"

"My siblings and I were home-schooled. We lived all over the world. Never in one place long enough to attend anywhere."

"Why?" She managed to get a little closer. "Why did you live all over the world?"

"My parents were theatre actors. My mother was a witch, but she gave up magic when she married my father. They had seven children. I'm the youngest. We were expected to be actors too, or to work backstage. Of all of us, I'm the only one who was also a wizard. But when we got my Hogwarts letter, my father burned it, and my mother sent reply that I'd not be coming. We left England shortly thereafter. We spent a couple of years at a Shakespeare company in Canada, then three seasons with a traveling company in the United States. We returned to Stratford-Upon-Avon when I was sixteen and all of my brothers and sisters were adults. My parents wanted me to take the lead in Romeo & Juliet, but I was through with that life. I wrote to Dumbledore myself, begged the old man to let me have an education, showed him all I'd taught myself from textbooks I'd purchase with my own earnings from the theatre. He agreed to meet with me and see what I knew. With his blessing and special permission I took my O.W.L.s the summer after the other fifth years had and when my results showed that I was capable enough, he agreed to let me in, though my practical skills were lacking from not having a wand, and I was positively dismal at potions."

Reginald picked up Henry and settled into a chair with the boy in his lap. "I didn't want that for you, son. I wanted you to know your status as a wizard from the moment you were born, to never wonder why you could make things happen than other children couldn't, to never see your Hogwarts letter burned in a fire, your wizarding education denied. i wanted the best for you and your sister."

"I want Mummy," said Henry.

Reginald shook his head. "Mummy has a new family now. You and Helena are _my_ family..." He looked over Delphini. "Perhaps we could arrange a trade."

"Hermione would never give Helena up to you, nor would she let you keep Henry!"

"No," said Reginald with a slow nod. "You're quite right. Hermione wouldn't. But someone else might. Someone who wouldn't want any harm to come to you."

"Like my father?"

"Or your aunt. Tell me, does Narcissa regard you as one would a daughter, or are you simply the burden Bellatrix left behind?"

"I know your voice." Delphini scrunched up her nose and narrowed her eyes, trying to recall where she'd heard him before. "You've been to Malfoy Manor?"

"Not recently. Over two years ago. You did not see me."

"No, it was recently... it was..." _Very_ recently, she suddenly realized. "I know! I heard your voice at the hospital! My father and I went there on Halloween, to accompany my aunt to the convalescent center, but she'd already been transferred. You were working on the closed ward! But your face was different..."

He chuckled. "An actor is nothing if not a master of disguise. As the bard so eloquently put it, 'all the world's a stage.'"

"What were you doing at St. Mungo's?"

"Seeking out your uncle, to do the same I plan to do to you." He raised his wand, pointing it at her face. "Obliviate!"

-0-0-0-

"Hermione!" Severus held her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Hermione, think. Where might Reginald have taken them? Where might he go? Where might he be hiding? Hermione? Hermione!"

"I can't," she said weakly. "I can't."

Hero grabbed for the parchment on the low table and promptly stuck it in her mouth. Severus pulled it out and was about to crumple it when he caught the words.

 _"...It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden. Too like the lightning..."_

Shakespeare.

Romeo & Juliet.

"Didn't you say Narcissa had been receiving ominous letters?" he asked Hermione. When she did not answer, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her roughly. "Didn't you say Narcissa had been receiving ominous letters?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "She said they were cryptic, nonsensical, but not quite in code. She couldn't remember them well enough to give me any exact quotes, but one was something about paying for the forfeit of peace with one's life, which reminded me of..."

"Romeo & Juliet."

"Yes."

"'A plague on both your houses.'"

"What?"

"When Lucius attacked Narcissa while under the Imperius Curse, he first said, 'A plague on both your houses.'"

"That's from the prologue." Hermione wiped her eyes and reached for Hero, who was crawling toward the kitchen. She needed her daughters close. "The line Narcissa's note made me think of is, 'Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.'"

"I'll bet that was it exactly." He held out the note he'd just taken from the baby. "Delphini had this in her pocket. Could it be from before she left for school? How long as Narcissa been receiving these letters?"

"No," said Helena. "It came today. On the steps. Under a rock. Someone knocked but when she opened the door, no one was there."

"Someone knocked and she answered the door?" Severus would have to have a talk with her about that... assuming he ever saw her again. His stomach twisted as he realized he might have lost his daughter forever. No. He couldn't start thinking that way.

"'I have no joy in this contract tonight. It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden. Too like the lightning... I will come again,'" read Hermione aloud. "Helena, lovey, are you saying she received this letter today?"

"Yes! It was outside on the step under a rock. She told me at the funfair!"

"Reginald." Hermione felt lightheaded. She leaned her back against the couch for support. "This is his handwriting. This is his favorite play. Reginald must have been writing the letters to Narcissa. Oh, Helena!"

Hermione turned tearfully to her little girl. "You told me you saw him in the playground. You did see him, didn't you?"

"Yes," said Helena. "It was him. And he was following us today. And I saw him once in Hogsmeade. And..."

"And I told you that you were wrong!" Hermione, consumed by guilt, fought the urge to retch. "I'm so sorry! I should have listened. I should have believed you!"

"It's alright, Mummy," said Helena with a shrug. "Delphini believed me. I told her about him trying to grab me from the playground. I told her about him when we were sick."

This only made Hermione cry harder.

"He must have been planning this for some time," said Severus. "But... what exactly is he planning? And why?"

-0-0-0-

The spell would've hit her head on, literally, and wiped clean all she'd learned about Reginald Park, but Henry smacked his father's arm at the last second, sending the memory charm off-course. Henry then scrambled off the man's lap. Delphini took that opportunity to leap forward, grabbing Reginald's wrist, attempting to wrestle him for the wand, even biting his forearm hoping he'd drop it, but she was not strong enough. He threw her roughly to the floor and turned his wand on her, his face contorted with fury.

"You said you're an expert with the Cruciatus Curse, eh? Let's see how you respond to it. Crucio!"

The pain was unlike any she'd ever felt before. Her body twisted and writhed. She felt both as if she was being boiled alive and as if she was being stabbed repeatedly with daggers like the one her mother used on Hermione, the one her uncle used on her auntie. It hurt so badly she lost the ability to speak, she could only scream, and cry, and silently beg for it to be over.

"This was a favorite of your mother's," he said, still training his wand on her once it was over. She made no attempt to get up. "My mother was herself a half-blood who had to report to the Ministry for registration during the war. She figured she was safe, since she had no desire to rejoin the wizarding world. She was willing to give over her wand, which she never used. But I urged her not to do it, not to go. I urged her to flee, as my wife and I planned to do. She went anyway. They took her wand. They broke it. They threw her in Azkaban. My father begged me to try to get her out, as I worked in Magical Law Enforcement, but I'd already been fired and would've lost my own wand if I'd wandered back in there. My father and six siblings disowned me for doing nothing, but Mother was a lost cause. She died in Azkaban, I later learned."

"Have you spoken to your family since?" asked Delphini.

"No," said Reginald. "They never want to see me again. They still blame me, even though I assured them there was nothing I could have done. As it was, my wife and I had to get out of there, to go on the run. Weeks later, were caught by Snatchers. Do you know of Snatchers?"

Delphini nodded.

"We were brought not to prison, but to Malfoy Manor. My wife was a Healer, you see. And their side – your mother's side – needed one. They needed one desperately. Do you know why?"

Delphini shook her head.

"Because one of their top Death Eaters was in labor. She was going to have a baby very soon. But there was a problem. The baby was stuck. They needed someone with experience to deliver the baby. So they forced my wife to do it. And when she was done, what payment did she receive? She was locked in a cellar dungeon for two weeks, until they could be certain the baby would live, then she was tortured into insanity and abandoned at St. Mungo's. Tortured for the mere 'crime' of having brought a baby Death Eater into the world. Your mother had no reason to torture her. If anything, she should have been _thanking_ her. Now my wife – my ex-wife, I divorced her so I could live a normal life – is a permanent resident of the post-war convalescent center, same ward as the Longbottoms, also tortured into insanity by your mother."

"My mother..." Delphini started, but she could think of no way to end the sentence.

"For what it's worth, I still pay for her care. Which is not inexpensive, hence partly why I was always so broke. But I've been plagued with guilt all these years. You see, I was lucky. They used me and my abilities as an actor to turn me into a spy under the Imperius Curse, but I learned to fight it... and then I learned to cast it."

"Was I the baby?" Delphini whispered, horrified. Why would her mother do that? Why would her mother savagely torture the woman who'd helped her give birth?

"Of course you were the baby, Delphini. Your mother ruined my first marriage, then your aunt and uncle ruined my second, and now here you are, but I'll not have my life ruined a third time, not by yet another member of the Black family. She was a monster, your mother. And from what I read in the Prophet, you're exactly the same, and deserve to be punished."

"No!"

"CRUCIO."

-0-0-0-

"We need to speak with Lucius. We need to know what he remembers," said Severus as Hermione created a baby sling from a long scarf, which she used to secure Hero to her back. She had finally managed to collect herself and was now determined to find their children. Severus, using his wand and a transfigured afghan, did the same to create a carrier for Helena, which he then attached to his own back.

"I don't think there's time for that. The lines he's used, they're from Romeo & Juliet, his favorite play. He took me to see it when we were dating, an outdoor production. What if that's where he's hiding?"

"What makes you think so? Because you went there on one date?"

She held out the parchment, turned to the back. "They believed in authenticity at that theatre. There was a question and answer period after during which they explained that they studied their sides from scrolls. Look closely at the back of this parchment, at the top."

"'...one man, in his time, plays many parts...' This is from the 'all the world's a stage' monologue in As You Like It."

"It's been highlighted. Actors highlight their lines. And As You Like It was the last production that company did, and also the last time the two of us went out together. The theatre was shut down shortly thereafter, and a month after the final show closed, he... I..." Hermione glanced uneasily at Helena, whose face was visible over Severus' shoulder. "I had that issue with Lucius Malfoy."

"But if it's an outdoor theatre, where would they be hiding?"

"There was a theatre indoors, too. Two on the same property, actually. They used to have multiple shows going on at once, but then there was an accident, an actor was injured very badly, they were hurt financially and couldn't recover. By the last season they were only performing outdoors, and then it was over. The buildings were abandoned. Before Reginald died, he told me he was considering trying to buy them, to open a new theatre, to start a new life. He said he knew it was too late for us, but he wanted to be a better man for the sake of our children."

"Before Reginald _faked_ his death, you mean."

"Yes..." Her cheeks burned. How could she not have even considered he would do such a thing? Helena had told her she'd seen him, and Hermione had been dismissive, as dismissive as she'd been of Trelawney's predictions and prophecies, and as dismissive as she'd been about the possibility of Draco Malfoy having taken the Dark Mark before the start of sixth year, and as dismissive as she'd been about whether he was up to something, as dismissive as she always was of anything impractical that couldn't be found in a book. When would she learn?

"Please, Severus, I know it seems strange, but I have this gut feeling... the same gut feeling I had when I went to the Shrieking Shack to save you. The sort of gut feeling Harry used to get all the time, the sort I never put any stock in but should have. Please, trust me."

He took her hand, ready to let her apparate them directly there with no further questions.

"I trust you."

-0-0-0-

"Stop!" screamed Henry, horrified, as Delphini went limp. "You ah not my daddy. You a bad man!"

"I'm not a bad man!" Reginald looked hurt. "Henry, son, don't you remember me? Don't you remember how I'd play with you, fly with you on the front of my broom? I took you to your first Quidditch match, remember?" That was on the one solo visitation Hermione had permitted after their divorce. She'd allowed him to take both children to see a Quidditch match on the condition that their father had not bet on it. "I used to call you King Henry and your sister was my Hellybean. You two meant everything to me. You still mean everything to me!"

"My daddy died," insisted Henry. "Now I have Pofessah."

"That professor is not your father!"

"He's a better father than you are!" Delphini spat weakly. She'd managed to pull herself into a semi-erect position, leaning against a wood beam, but could manage no more.

"Is he? Curious you would say so, since according to the Prophet he spend the first eleven years of your life denying you, letting the world think your slag mother had gotten herself pregnant by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Leave my mother out of it!" Delphini's breathing was ragged and sharp. Every breath caused her pain, as if she was inhaling shards of glass instead of air. For the first time since she set foot at Hogwarts in September, Delphini felt guilt for what she'd done to Victoire Weasley. Surely the curse hadn't hurt her this badly, had it?

"Haven't you seen the snake and skull marking on the professor's arm, Henry?" asked Reginald. Henry nodded. Reginald knelt down to the boy's level. "That's the marking of a bad wizard. I have no such marking." He drew up his sleeve to show his son. "I am a good wizard."

"You put the Dark Mark in the sky tonight! You are not a good wizard! Only the Dark Lord's favorite Death Eaters ever knew how!"

"Your mother was the one who taught me to do that, when I was under the Imperius Curse. Thank _her._ Now, what to do with you?"

"Are you going to kill me?" She tried to appear anything but terrified.

"Of course not, child. Unlike your mother and her master, I am no murderer."

"You almost murdered my auntie!"

He was surprised she'd figured this out but tried not to show it. "No, your uncle did that."

"He was under the Imperius Curse! She's certain he was."

"Is she?" Reginald seemed taken by surprise at this, too. "She's more perceptive than I'd realized."

"Why did you want to hurt her? What did she do to you?" She had to keep him talking. She had to. She had to keep passing the time until her father and Hermione could find them. Surely, they would find them. They had to. She wasn't confident in her apparition abilities before and was positive she couldn't attempt it now. She was too weak, too wounded.

Reginald, despite his earlier attempt to Obliviate her, seemed to enjoy explaining himself.

"I owed your uncle money. A lot of money. I couldn't pay it. She came up with a plan that would get me out of debt with all of extremities intact, but it cost me my family. For this, she had to suffer. I wanted for her to suffer and for him to go to prison. I wanted that family as destroyed as mine was. As both of mine were. I lost my mother, my father, my siblings, my first wife. Now, I've lost Hermione and my children. Narcissa got what she deserved."

Unnoticed by Reginald, Henry was creeping closer and closer to his back pocket, where he'd unwisely stored his wand. Delphini tried to look anywhere but at the little boy for fear she'd draw attention to him.

"Did you mean for her to die? Or only to be hurt?"

"I meant for her to die."

"Which would make you a murderer!"

"It's not murder if it's justified," said Reginald, shaking his head. "Was Molly Weasley a murderer for killing your mother to save her daughter? Was your father a murderer for sending an already dying Albus Dumbledore to his death to save your cousin? Was Harry Potter a murderer for bringing about the demise of the one you called the Dark Lord? Only the villains are murderers, dear girl. When the heroes do it..."

"You, sir, are no hero."

Henry grabbed the wand. He was already scrambling toward Delphini when Reginald realized and reacted.

"No, son!"

"Give it here!" shouted Delphini.

But Henry, being only three and overconfident, swiveled around, faced his father himself, and shouted the word he'd heard three terrible times since being abducted:

"CWUCIO!"

The curse hit Reginald in the knee. He reacted with a minor jolt, as if he'd banged it into a low coffee table, but shook it off and reached for his wand.

"Give that back to Daddy, son."

"No! You a bad dad!"

"Son?" Reginald reached slowly, carefully toward him, as one might an unfamiliar dog. "King Henry, give Daddy back his wand. We'll send Delphini back home safe with a portkey, then you and I will go start our new lives... I won't hurt her, I promise. And then we can play all day, every day, Henry. Would you like that? And we'll eat Chocolate Frogs and Every Flavor Beans, and I'll teach you everything about Quidditch. What do you say, Henry?"

Henry glared at him, the wand still pointed in his direction. "Fuck Quidditch."

-0-0-0-

"Mother!" Draco rushed into Narcissa's room, a sleeping Scorpius in his arms. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know!"

"You don't know?" His face showed a mix of confusion and annoyance. "You sent me that Patronus! You told me to come straight away! You said it was a family emergency!"

"I have a bad feeling, Draco. A feeling something is terribly wrong. I woke up with it and can't shake it." She glanced at the nurse and jerked her head toward the door. With an annoyed snort, the woman exited, shutting the door behind her.

"Mother, I don't..."

"I had a nightmare, Draco," she said. She reached for the little one. Draco settled the boy in her arms then pulled himself up a chair. "I had a dream about Bellatrix. I haven't dreampt about her since... since... you know."

"Since the dream that made you retrieve Delphini from the Rowles."

"When she accused me of abandoning her baby. She said Euphemia was hurting her daughter, she said she was in danger, and even though it was only a nightmare that I thought guilt caused, I hurried to their home before breakfast, only to find Euphemia beating the girl with a wooden spoon for having spilled some food on the floor. The poor little mite had fingerprint bruises on her arms, a blistered burn on her back, and slow-healing welts on her legs... I punished Euphemia with the Cruciatus Curse and took Delphini away, remember?"

"I remember," said Draco. He had been nineteen years old at the time, still recovering, mentally, from the last years of the war, the Final Battle, and his trial. His mother had come into his bedroom with the dark-eyed toddler in her arms, tears streaming freely down both of their faces, and begged him to do something - not that he had any idea what to do. The girl needed care but Narcissa was afraid to bring the secret baby of Bellatrix Lestrange to St. Mungo's. They'd ended up taking her to Hogwarts, which was under repair, to see Madam Pomfrey.

"Bellatrix came to me again last night, but in this dream, she kept telling me, 'Your baby is in danger, Cissy. Lost underground, unforgivably cursed, and frightened. You must save your baby!' I didn't know whether she meant you, or Scorpius, or... or..."

"Or Delphini?"

"But she kept saying _your_ baby, not _my_ baby. _Your_ baby."

"She is sort of your baby, though, isn't she Mother? You've raised her. You've loved her like your own."

"I sent a Patronus to Severus, too, when I sent that one to you. He hasn't responded." Narcissa's cobalt blue eyes were glassy with tears. She stroked sleeping Scorpius' hair as she spoke. "I need you to go to Spinner's End, Draco. I need you to go now. I need you to check on my baby."

-0-0-0-

The buildings were gone.

"No!" Hermione cried out. She'd been certain. But the building were gone and all that remained was the outdoor stage, its brocade curtain moth-eaten and damp with mildew and week-old rain, the wood floor of the stage partly covered over with moss. The stairs up to the stage were rotting away and the backstage area was empty save for some decrepit wooden crates, a giant barrel full of rocks, and evidence that a woodland creature of some sort had previously made a nest at the base of a support beam, though it, too, look long abandoned.

"Careful walking on this floor," said Severus as they stepped across the upstage area.

"I can't believe it," said Hermione. "I was wrong." She let loose an anguished cry that pierced the quiet night, sending birds flying from their trees, and dropped to her knees in the dirt.

-0-0-0-

Half a story below, Henry's ears perked up.

"Mummy? Mummy!"

"Quiet!" hissed Reginald.

"They've found us," whispered Delphini. She mustered up her remaining strength and tried to scream, but Reginald, capitalizing on Henry's distraction, wrestled back his wand and pointed it at the girl.

"Silencio!"

He started to panic. He had to get them out of there. He had to apparate away with Henry, let them find the damn girl, forget about going back for Helena.

"Come on, son." He grabbed Henry's wrist. "We're leaving."

But he couldn't leave yet.

He had to Obliviate her first.

He pointed his wand at her again.

Her eyes darted from Reginald's face to Henry's.

"Help, Delfeefee," said Henry, his scared brown eyes brimming with tears.

Delphini did the only thing she was somehow certain she could manage without a wand.

She held out her hands, palms facing each other, about a Quaffle's width apart, and concentrated on the space between them. She concentrated on the fear, her own and Henry's, and the determination, and the frustration, the hurt she felt at school, the liberation she felt at Spinner's End...

And the one clear memory of her mother.

 _"I thought he was going to kill me."_

An orange ball began to form.

Reginald, transfixed, lowered his wand. "What are you doing?"

The orange ball began to spin. It spun and it grew. It was growing and spinning, orange and hot, unlike any fire Reginald had ever seen or felt before.

And yet, he knew what it was.

He lowered his wand.

He froze.

"Fiendfyre."

-0-0-0-

"Where are they?" shouted Hermione. "Where could they be?"

"We're going to St. Mungo's," said Severus. He helped Hermione to her feet, mentally cursing himself for not having insisted upon that in the first place. "We're talking to Lucius. Even if he'd been Obvliviated, I may be able to extract memor..."

The floor was growing hot beneath them.

Too hot.

Severus grabbed hold of Hermione's bicep and jerked her back against the stage left side of the proscenium just in time, as a Quaffle-sized orange ball flew up from below them, into the air, and back down. Severus, thinking quickly, whipped his wand in its direction and subdued it. It went out with an angry hiss and an eruption of steam. He grinned at Hermione, who looked back with shock. The floor sealed itself over, still emanating heat, as if lava were bubbling under the boards.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, perplexed.

"That's my girl," Severus answered.

-0-0-0-

"Are you trying to kill us all? Everything down here is flammable! That's why they shut the place down, an actor was badly burned!" Reginald snapped, rubbing his eyes. The color, the fire, had been too close, and for a few seconds, he could not see.

Delphini, still silenced, was unable to answer his question.

Reginald grasped for Henry, but the boy had taken the opportunity to hide.

"Damn it. Henry! Come out! Henry, it's alright. Daddy will protect you from the wicked witch. I won't let her hurt you. Come on out, Henry! We don't have much time!"

Delphini put her hands back into position. She was weak, yes, but if she could send up one more ball of fire, if it could help her father and Hermione find them...

"I don't think so!" said Reginald furiously, wand raised. In a loud whisper, he added, "CRUCIO!"

This time, despite the excruciating pain, she could not scream.

-0-0-0-

"There's a trap door!" exclaimed Hermione, leading Severus across the creaking wood floor. Helena, still in her carrier, clung to his back like a terrified baby koala. She did not like fire. Hero, on the other hand, was snoozing peacefully in the sling that kept her attached to her mother.

Hermione knelt down, feeling the wood. Severus was about to cast a Revelio when she located it. She used Alohomora to unlock it and jerked it open with a creek.

It looked dark down there.

She and Severus scrambled down the ladder and found themselves in a smaller space than expected, surrounded by four walls they could touch all at once. This wasn't where the ball of fire had come from.

"There must be a door," whispered Hermione, feeling around. This time Severus did cast Revelio and the opening appeared to them. Using Lumos to light their way, they found themselves in a short hall with dressing rooms to either side. They passed a makeshift loo and what had probably been a space to store props, and finally exited through to the large room behind.

This, unlike the others, was occupied.

-0-0-0-

The first thing Severus did upon catching sight of the man was hit him in the back with a disapparition jinx, one he apparently did not feel, as there was no reaction.

"Reginald!"

Upon hearing his name, he swiveled around. "Hermione!"

"Expelliarmus!" Severus caught Reginald's wand as it flew through the air, leaving the man vulnerable. As much as he wanted to follow that with something like a Sectrumsempra, he was too concerned over the state of the children to seek revenge.

"Where are the children?" asked Hermione. "Where are..."

"Delphini!" shouted Severus, suddenly spotting his daughter across the green room on the floor, now too weak to even hold up her head. Her eyes were closed. "What did you do to her? If she's dead..."

"She's not dead," Reginald assured them. "Only silenced. Where is Henry?"

"What do you mean, where is Henry?" Hermione's voice rose in panic. "You took him! You should know where he is!"

"He ran off when he heard your voice. I thought perhaps..."

"Henry!" she screamed. "Henry!"

"I'm heah, Mummy!" Henry crawled out from the inside of a wardrobe full of costume coats. He ran to his mother, wrapping his arms around her legs. "Hi, Pofessah."

"Hi, Henry," said Severus. Keeping his wand trained on Reginald just as Hermione was, he moved to Delphini's side. He knelt down, Helena still on his back, and cradled his daughter. "Finite Incantatem," he whispered, waving Reginald's wand to cancel the silencing spell. Delphini's head flopped back. "Delphini, are you alright?"

She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. Weakly, she answered.

"I knew you'd find us, Dad."


	50. Remembered

**CHAPTER FIFTY**

 **Be all my sins remembered.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Be

All my sins

Remembered.

"He tried to stop the bleeding."

Be all my sins remembered.

"He hadn't meant for it to happen."

All my sins remembered.

"She scowled when she saw the vial."

My sins remembered.

"'You mean it, Lily?'"

Sins remembered.

"She was thirteen when they met."

Remembered.

Be all.

Always. Never.

Always.

Be all my sins remembered.

-0-0-0-

 ** _Bellatrix Daphna Black Lestrange_**

 _2_ _March, 1951 - 2_ _May, 1998_

 _"_ _You need to really want to cause pain_

 _\- to enjoy it -_

 _righteous anger won't hurt me for long."_

She was thirteen when they met.

Third Year. She was

Intelligent, attractive, but out of place. With

Few friends.

No sense of belonging.

And she was

Bored.

She wanted excitement. She wanted success.

She wanted greatness and power and something to believe in.

She wanted an escape.

He promised to provide all that.

(And more.)

A year later, he took her out of school.

He said she'd learned all she needed from those Muggle-lovers

And sympathizers

And weak wizards and witches willing to relinquish power to undeserving

Mudbloods.

He wanted to restore them to their rightful place

With him at the forefront, at the top

And her by his side.

She was mesmerized.

He taught her everything she needed to know

Hexes, jinkes, defensive spells and complicated wandwork;

He taught her the Unforgivable Curses.

On a Hogsmeade trip,

One year before her escape from school,

When she was a thirteen-year-old Third Year,

He said she was "sufficiently matured," and he

Got them a room above a pub, and he

Took her to bed.

(She was too young.)

She thought they'd marry

Have babies

And rule the wizarding world together –

Like a king and queen.

But that was her plan, not his.

He made her marry another, the man to whom she'd been

Betrothed.

That man was also a Death Eater. They shared a home

And a bed

But not their lives. Not her heart.

She never loved him. How could she?

There was only one she knew how to love.

And then, on Halloween night, without warning...

Her love was gone.

So many long, lonely years she wasted in Azkaban

Losing her sanity, her looks, her sense of self

But never wavering in her devotion.

She knew he would come back for her.

She knew he would rise again

And she'd be there, by his side

His lieutenant, his most loyal, his lover.

There, by his side, unwavering in her devotion.

As she always was.

Always.

-0-0-0-

 ** _Reginald Romeo Park_**

 _18 October, 1967 - 9 April, 2008(?)_

 _"_ _A rose, if called by any other name, would smell as sweet..."_

He had a love/hate relationship with the theatre.

Had he been permitted to be a scholar and a spectator, he likely would have

Loved it.

He appreciated Shakespeare. Enjoyed the wordplay, the complex plots,

The cases of mistaken identity

The humor and the drama and the romance

And the murder.

But his parents forced the theatre lifestyle on him

And forced him to deny his magic

Even as doing so became increasingly difficult.

Albus Dumbledore warned Mr. and Mrs. Park

When they declined his invitation to Hogwarts

Of the damage it could do him, suppressing

Magic

Rather than learning to control it.

They cared not.

And so it built inside him, a dark force

Just short of forming an Obscurial,

And it caused suffering.

Thus, even though he'd finally won the role he'd long coveted –

Romeo, for whom he was named –

He could not accept. He needed to escape.

He needed an education.

He needed out.

And once at Hogwarts, he realized –

He needed more.

He needed acceptance. And belonging.

And love.

So he married. And they loved.

And then, so suddenly, she was stolen from him.

And he thought he'd never love again.

A bet saw him out on his first date since her death –

And subsequent bets ensured he continued to see the woman.

The witch.

The most brilliant witch of her age.

And again, he fell in love.

He married her.

They had two children.

They had a home.

He had a family.

But alas...

The enemy remained.

The darkness within -

It remained.

His addiction to gambling, his selfish nature,

And his need to avoid paying for all he'd done wrong...

It caught up with him.

He lost his wife. He lost his children.

He lost it all.

He could never recover from this –

He could not pick up the pieces yet again, to move on –

He could not accept he'd lost his family, and chance at happiness,

For a third time.

He would never get back what he'd lost.

Never.

-0-0-0-

 ** _Lucius Abraxas Malfoy_**

 _29_ _January, 1953_

 _"_ _Mark my words..."_

He was supposed to have married Andromeda.

They were closer in age, born less than a year apart,

(Which only matters when you're young)

And they had several things in common.

Both liked the Hobgoblins, and nonfiction, and

Looking out at the stars.

Plus, his parents approved. They

Chose

Her, as a matter of fact.

(It was never going to be his choice.)

They met, for the first time since toddlerhood,

At the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.

He liked her straight away.

He passed her notes in the hallways.

They held hands in Hogsmeade,

Attended a Yule Ball,

And shared a car on the Hogwarts Express

Every year.

But as time passed, she seemed less and less happy

With him.

When she ran off, he tried not to take it personally –

Just because the girl would rather marry a

Mudblood

Than a

Malfoy.

His parents had good news, however.

The Blacks had another daughter, a younger one.

A prettier one

(or so they said. He was not terribly attracted to blondes).

They hadn't found a future husband for her yet.

So she would have to do.

He wasn't thrilled.

He'd already slept with Andromeda. Lost his

Virginity

To her in the Astronomy Tower

At Hogwarts, his sixth year, June.

She was the only... his only... he'd never even...

Never even snogged another girl

Despite his (undeserved) reputation as quite the

Philanderer.

His parents took him to meet her.

"Will she make for a sufficient wife?"

He said yes, he wanted her for his bride,

Because that's what he was expected to say.

But they did not pass notes, or hold hands, or kiss.

They certainly did not have sex...

They waited until their wedding night.

They had to.

Until their wedding night, they'd never even been alone together.

(Both sets of parents agreed this was best.)

She was too young for him, he felt.

Even though only three years separated them, she should have been

In school.

She'd been forced to drop out early, so that his wedding could take place

As scheduled

In accordance with the plan his parents made

Six months after he was born.

Narcissa was scared and serious and shy.

Not funny or flirtatious or fiery like Andromeda.

But they consummated the marriage as was expected.

What was

Quite unexpected

Was the way she cried afterward.

"I just wanted to finish school first," she explained.

"It's not you. I'm not upset with you –

I don't regret marrying you.

I just wanted to finish school first, that's all."

Then she opened a bottle of champagne,

Drank enough to get pissed,

And passed out.

Though they learned to love each other

(And later fell out of love with each other)

He would forever feel like a monster for having married her

And deflowered her

And made her cry

When all she wanted to do was finish school.

And he knew,

Though she promised she wouldn't

Though she swore she understood that it wasn't his fault

Though she claimed she was content to raise his child and be his

Trophy

He knew

That she would forever hold it against him.

And a part of him hated her for this.

Always.

-0-0-0-

 ** _Narcissa Raveka Black Malfoy_**

 _11_ _February, 1955_

 _"_ _There is nothing I wouldn't do anymore."_

If she could have been anything,

She might have been a professional Quidditch player.

One of the Holyhead Harpies

On a broom, chasing a Quaffle, scoring goals.

But she wasn't allowed to play, not even at school

Not even for fun.

It was unladylike. Undignified.

Her parents hadn't even wanted her to take flying first year

But it was required.

If she could have been anything,

She might have been a Healer.

A famous and successful one, like Dilys Derwent

In a hospital, saving patients, developing treatments.

But she wasn't allowed to take potions after fifth year

Or to study Herbology, as her parents thought both were useless

She couldn't have an apprenticeship like the ones offered to her cousins

She couldn't even sit for her N.E.W.T.s.

If she could have been anything,

She might have been a professor.

Head of House, or Deputy Headmistress

In charge of welcoming new students to Hogwarts

Filling their minds with knowledge and magic and ideas

But who would hire a professor who'd dropped out of school sixth year

To get married

And have a baby

And spend the bulk of the next thirty-five years

Looking pretty for pictures, greeting Ministry officials

And hosting fancy parties for important fellow purebloods

Out of a mansion, a manor, that never really felt like home?

Despite all the years she'd spent there

All the time she'd been married

All the days and nights confined to those hallowed halls

It never really felt like home -

So she bought too much stuff they didn't need.

And she never really felt complete -

So she drank too much to fill the void.

But

She never stopped wondering what else she might have been.

Never.

-0-0-0-

 ** _Severus Tobias Snape_**

 _9_ _January, 1960_

 _"_ _Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves,_

 _who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories_

 _and allow themselves to be provoked easily... they stand no chance..."_

In 1991, Albus Dumbledore gathered

A number of his professors

For a covert, important staff meeting.

The small group included Dumbledore himself,

Of course,

And Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape,

And Quirinus Quirrell. Plus

Fillius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout,

Rolanda Hooch, Rubeus Hagrid, and

Charity Burbage.

Seven professors the Headmaster was certain he could trust

(Plus one devoted keeper of the keys and grounds).

He asked them each to

Individually

Provide challengers for chambers

That would lead to a place he would be using

To protect an item essential

To the peace

Of their world.

Severus offered potions and a riddle.

Spout, the Devil's Snare.

McGonagall Transfigured a giant chess set

And Flitwick charmed keys to fly.

Hooch lent several of her oldest brooms

("They'd have to be impressive flyers to catch a key on those!")

And Hagrid parted with his new three-headed pup.

Quirrell found a troll - it escaped once, but it was returned to the chamber -

And Dumbledore designed the chambers, including the final one...

But it was Charity who provided the mirror.

THE MIRROR OF ERISED.

ERISED. The word itself was the mirror image of DESIRE.

"It's been in my mother's family for generations...

Gathering dust."

Later

(In bed)

She confessed to Severus that the mirror had killed her great-grandfather.

He lost four sons in the war against

Grindelwald.

Sat himself in front of that mirror where he could still see them

And wasted away.

Though she told him he shouldn't, Severus went to the mirror

Before it was moved

To the finished final chamber.

He saw himself, as he was.

Beside him, an auburn haired, green-eyed woman

Wearing a ring, and

Holding a baby with her hair

And his eyes.

When he returned to bed

Charity's bed

She asked, "What did you see?"

"An impossible future," he answered.

She nodded. She turned toward the wall, her back to him.

"I thought you might," she said.

They didn't speak of it again.

He didn't mean to hurt Charity

He liked her

But he loved Lily.

He loved her from the age of nine.

He loved her on the playground, on the swings.

He loved her when they were Sorted into different Houses

He loved her when she pressed her lips to his.

He even loved her when he called her a

Mudblood.

He still loved her

When she refused to let him apologize.

He loved her when he realized the Dark Lord thought the Prophecy

Was describing her unborn son, and when the Dark Lord

Promised to spare her.

He loved her when he found her dead on the floor of the nursery

Of that decimated home in Godric's Hollow.

He loved her a decade later, when her son -

The son that should have been his -

Was Sorted into Gryffindor.

He loved her when that boy saved the Stone

And when that boy saved Ginny Weasley

And when that boy failed to save Cedric Diggory.

He loved her when he was dying.

When her green eyes... her son's green eyes... stared into his

As he took what he presumed to be

His last breath.

He loved her then.

"After all this time?" Dumbledore asked him once.

"Always," he'd answered.

But something happened during his convalescence...

He started to see that love as something dark, something unhealthy, something _wrong,_

An obsession.

And once he recognized that, he started to let her go.

And now -

Now, with Hermione?

Now he was in love.

It was not an obsession. It was not dark or unhealthy or wrong.

And even if it didn't last, even if it didn't go beyond whatever it was already

Even if it didn't result in a marriage and a baby and a life together,

He would forever be grateful for the chance to have experienced real love.

He would keep that with him.

Always.

-0-0-0-

 ** _Hermione Jean Granger_**

 _19 September, 1979_

 _"_ _I'm hoping to do some good in the world."_

Perfection.

That's what she wanted.

Perfection.

From the time she was a toddler

She wanted to do absolutely everything

Right

Preferably on the first try,

But she didn't expect everything to come easily.

She wanted to work for it.

She wanted to work the hardest,

To be the best,

To prove herself.

She read through all of her textbooks

Before getting on the train to Hogwarts.

She read Hogwarts, A History

Over and over and over again

Until the pages were weathered and the binding was

Breaking.

She studied nonstop for her O.W.L.s

And again, a year late, for her N.E.W.T.s.

She worked longer hours at her job than anyone else in her department

And took care of her husband

(First one, then the other)

And read to her baby girl, and helped her reach every

Single

Milestone

Early.

She did it all. She was the perfect

Perfect

Modern woman.

But it was never enough.

She couldn't reach perfection.

And before a decade of adulthood had come and gone

Even the perfectly crafted facade

She'd been so careful to cultivate

Was crumbling.

She didn't spend as much time teaching Henry

As she had Helena.

She didn't have the energy.

She left her job to get away from Lucius, to

Protect

Herself, and her children.

She lost herself. She lost herself

And then

She found herself

With him.

She never wanted to be dependent on another person

And especially not on a man

She never wanted to be weak.

And yet... she could never be perfect.

She could love him without losing herself,

Couldn't she?

She could love him, and be loved by him

Without being lost to him.

She could accept that their lives could be happy

Without being perfect.

She would never again doubt herself, though.

Never again relinquish her hope, her determination,

Her very personhood.

Never again let another person steal the fire away from her.

Never.

-0-0-0-

 ** _Delphini Druella Black (Snape)_**

 _14_ _February, 1997_

 _"Sometimes I wish I'd never been born."_

On Auntie Narcissa's beside table, there was a

Photograph.

Black and white and

Moving

In an ornate silver frame.

The subject of said photograph was

Bellatrix Lestrange -

Her mother -

And she was smiling.

She was smiling and holding her baby.

Baby Delphini.

It was Christmas, 1997, which put the girl at

Seven weeks shy of one year old.

Bella bounced her beautiful baby gently

Blew a raspberry against her cheek

And laughed.

She laughed because her baby laughed.

It was Delphini's favorite photograph

But it was also the only one she wasn't

Permitted

To keep.

"It's all I have left of my sister," explained Narcissa. "I took

That photograph with my own camera. It makes me

Happy, and

I've given you everything else."

She was five when she first learned that her father

Was suspected

To have been

The Dark Lord.

She overheard a row

Between Auntie Cissy and Uncle Lucius.

"For how long can we hide her?" he'd asked. "She's been seen

With you

In public. The Prophet printed a

Picture.

She looks so much like her

Mother. It's only a matter of time."

"Let them speculate," Narcissa had responded. "Let them question..."

"The only question," Lucius cut her off, "Is 'Who's her father?'"

"It could be Rodolphus," said Narcissa nervously.

Even without seeing her, Delphini knew she was

Biting her lip,

And lying.

"Rodolphus couldn't give his wife a child, you know that."

"I know that and you know that," snipped Cissy, "But the greater wizarding world doesn't know that!"

"Open your eyes, Narcissa! There has been whispering about her since before she was born!

Those who knew of her existence questioned the identity of her father.

Former Death Eaters, the ones who are free,

They're already talking. They're saying her father

Is none other than

The Dark Lord himself. Eventually, it will get to the

Prophet,

And can you imagine what they'll write?"

Delphini could not read yet, thus she could not imagine what they would write.

Though from that on her obsession with her mother,

Was joined by an obsession with her

(unknown)

Father.

A year later...

Days after her sixth birthday,

There it was. A photograph of Delphini

Taken in Diagon Alley, without permission

While shopping with her aunt

Made the third page of the Daily Prophet.

The article's headline:

DELPHINI BLACK, A CURSED CHILD?

Delphini picked up the paper. She started to read.

"Believed to have been fathered by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Delphini Black (seen here) strongly resembles her mother, famously sadistic and loyal Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange..."

Auntie snatched the paper away. She set it on fire.

"Don't worry yourself over that rubbish."

"Is the Dark Lord my father, Auntie?" she asked. "Am I a cursed child?"

"You are your mother's child," Narcissa answered.

And for the next five years, Delphini had no more than that to go on.

"You are your mother's child."

"I want a father, Auntie. Is the Dark Lord my father? Who is my father?"

Narcissa would not say.

Before passing out on the dusty, dirty floor

Of that underground greenroom

Beneath the Muggle Shakespeare theatre.

Delphini heard her mother's voice in her ear:

"I thought he was going to kill me."

Followed by that of her auntie:

"You are your mother's child."

And she felt the strong, comforting arms of her father

(Dad)

Holding her

Keeping her safe.

She saw his eyes, the color of her own eyes

Looking her over with concern.

With love -

As her mother used to.

She always wanted a father.

She never thought she'd actually have one.

-0-0-0-

Remembered.

Always. Never.

Always.

Be all my sins remembered.

* * *

 **A/N:**

This is the last verse-esque chapter. Rather than focus on two specific situations, I wanted to give just a touch more insight into each of the seven main characters.

Coming up, the two chapter conclusion (51-52), epilogue (53), and 'tag' (54). Then... c'est finis! :) I'll upload Chapter 51 on Friday, 52 on Monday, 53 on Thursday, and 54 the following Monday, July 24th. If I end up splitting one more chapter due to length (debating it now) then the last chapter will be 55, posted on Friday, July 28th, but I'm hoping when editing for these last few is done that won't be ncessary.

Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, following and adding to faves, and for your PMs! I will reply to individual reviews and Qs by PM this week. Thx!

 **-AL**

PS: Daphna, Bellatrix's middle name, means Victory. Reveka, Narcissa's middle name, means captivating.


	51. A Quarrel

**CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE**

 **Beware of entrance to a quarrel.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Hermione opened her eyes and stretched.

Sunshine was streaming through the curtains, but it was soft and pink, indicating dawn had just broken.

She was alone in Severus' bed... but not alone in his house.

She could hear footsteps downstairs, and whispers, and a rustling of cloaks, and a soft whimper of pain.

She smiled. A relieved smile.

Thank Merlin.

They were home.

-0-0-0-

"What did you do to my daughter?" demanded Severus, cradling the girl, his wand directed at the heart of Reginald Romeo Park. His own heart was pounding, not only in his chest, but in his ears. He wanted nothing more than to hex this vile man into oblivion, to make him suffer as, surely, he'd made the children suffer, take him down with Sectumsempra or a powerful stunner or perhaps even that curse Dolohov once used on Hermione. He wanted to watch the man bleed and cry, to beg for mercy and writhe in pain. But he couldn't. Not until he knew what had happened to Delphini. He had to know in order to properly treat her. "What did you hit her with?"

"Nothing!" insisted Reginald. "She exhausted herself creating a ball of Fiendfyre silently, without a wand. That's all."

"That's a lie." Severus untied the scarf keeping Helena attached to his back, stood her beside him, then lifted Delphini into his arms as he straightened up. Helena grasped the hem of his coat. Even at under six years old she knew he had released her so he'd have the strength to hold Delphini, who needed him more in this moment, but she did not like how unsafe this made her feel. "My daughter has created Fiendfyre wandlessly and wordlessly before and it did not exhaust her like this! Tell the truth. What have you done to her?"

"He said 'Cwucio!'' like this, Pofessah!" Henry swung his hand as if brandishing a wand. "He did it fwee times. No, fouh times." He counted on his fingers. "One, two, fwee, fouh. Maybe five-sits-seven-nine-ten-twenty!" He held out both hands, fingers splayed. "This many!"

"Not that many," said Reginald, going purple over having been ratted out by his own offspring. "Three. Three times only."

"You used the Cruciatus Curse on my child?" It was a damn good thing – for Reginald – that Severus quite literally had his arms full at the moment, as he wanted nothing more than to charge this man, to forgo wands and beat him senseless with his fists, to make him suffer. To break his nose. To throttle him.

"She deserved it!" argued Reginald, only angering Severus further.

"Reginald!" gasped Hermione, horrified. "How could you? How could you do it? How could you _say_ that? She's a little girl!"

"She threatened it against me first!"

"She's a _child!"_ Hermione's face was pale, her eyes large, as if seeing her ex-husband for the first time. Which, in a sense, she was. For the first time, she was seeing the person he truly was, and not the character the brilliant actor had been throughout their short marriage. "She's eleven years old, Reginald! Only five years older than your own daughter."

"My daughter is not like her!" he spat. "My Helena doesn't use Unforgivable Curses on other children. My Helena wouldn't get kicked out of school! My Helena is not the spitting image of Bellatrix Lestrange, the most sadistic and deplorable Death Eater to ever..."

"You'll stop talking, if you know what's good for you," said Severus, his eyes darkening dangerously, his voice low. "You'll not speak ill of my daughter's mother in front of her, nor will you dare to even _suggest_ my child deserved your torture. Keep in mind, Park, the world already thinks you're dead. It would not be so difficult to make that a reality. You would not be the first to experience the Killing Curse at my hand."

"But I... but I... Hermione!" He turned to address her directly, to appeal to her very decency. "I am the father of your children, Hermione. I loved you. I still love you! I love them. We made them together. Surely you wouldn't rob your children of their father?"

"They don't need you for a father," she replied coldly. "You left them. You left them when you pretended to be dead. And you don't love me. If you'd loved me, you never would have..." She glanced at Helena, the only child old enough and conscious enough to understand, were she to speak the truth. "You never would have made that deal with Lucius Malfoy."

"It was his wife's idea!"

"It wasn't," said Hermione. "Another lie!"

"But... yes, it was!"

"You're a liar!" shouted Hermione, her wand hand shaking slightly.

"You a liah!" echoed Henry, also putting his hand out as if holding a wand.

"No," said Severus, now employing Legilimency. "He's not lying about that. He truly believes it was Naricissa's idea. He is wrong. He is a liar for other reasons, but about that, he is simply wrong."

"Lucius Malfoy told me it was his wife's idea! Lucius Malfoy..." Reginald fixed his gaze on the blonde hair of the baby asleep on Hermione's back, her head just poking her mother's shoulder. "You should have had an abortion, Hermione. How could you carry that man's child? How could you raise her, considering what he did to you? What he did to our family? How could you bring that abomination into the world?!"

"He did only what you gave him permission to do! You knew before we stepped foot on Malfoy Manor property that I was to be coerced into doing... what I did... with him, didn't you?"

Reginald had the good sense to hang his head in shame.

"You may have thought it was Narcissa's idea, but you _agreed_ to it!" Hermione steadied her wand hand. "You sniveling coward. You gave over your own wife, the mother of your children, to an evil man like that just to save yourself some money and the pain of a couple of broken legs!"

"They were going to kill me! The men I owed money to, they were terrible people."

"You ah tewible people!" shouted Henry.

"Person," corrected Helena. "He's only one man, so he would be a terrible person, not people. People means more than one."

"That's my lovely little girl," said Reginald, smiling down at her. "Bright for her age, isn't she? My brilliant Hellybean. So like her mother. And like me. I was rather precocious at that age myself."

"I'm like my mummy," said Helena, looking upon him with fear. "But not like you. I don't even know you, Daddy."

Reginald flinched as if burned.

Severus shifted Delphini's weight in his arms. He truly did not have the strength for this, and as it was getting late, his pain potion was beginning to wear off as well. He needed to get her to St. Mungo's. Three hits with the Cruciatus Curse by a full-grown wizard would be a lot for anyone to take, but for someone both so young and so small for her age, it could be especially dangerous.

"What are we going to do with him, Hermione?" asked Severus. "I have a few things in mind."

"We're going to call for Harry." She waved her wand, creating a corporeal Patronus in the shape of an otter. "He's an Auror. He can bring reinforcements and they'll arrest Reginald." She quickly gave her message to the otter and waved her wand again, sending it away.

"No!" Reginald dropped to his knees. "Please, Hermione, I cannot go to Azkaban. My mother died there during the war. Please. Curse me, kill me, anything but Azkaban! Please!"

"Your mother _died_ there?" Hermione glared down at him. "You told me your parents were Muggles who lived in Canada and that you were estranged from them! You said they disowned you for being a wizard!"

"That's... mostly true..."

"His Mum was a witch!" Henry piped up. "I know 'cause he telled us."

"Please, Hermione, let me explain everything. I can explain everything! You need to listen. You have to understand. Please, Hermione, if you ever loved me you'll..."

"I'm not interested in your excuses, Reginald. I'm not interested in the excuses of any man who would do what you did to me and to our children, what you did to Severus' child, and... and I... and my baby is _not_ an abomination, thank you!"

Severus, now truly struggling to hold up Delphini, leaned against the support beam. He did not want to apparate away until he was certain the man was subdued, until Aurors had arrived. What was taking that git Harry Potter so bloody long?

"Lucius Malfoy is the real enemy here, Hermione!" swore Reginald from his position on the floor. "He set this all up! He's the one who bet me to date you, who paid me to get you to marry me..."

"What?!" she shouted, at the same time Severus, equally shocked, asked calmly, "Pardon?"

"He had this planned from the first! He must have! He must have wanted you, that must have been what it was about, what it was always about! Why else would he have offered so much to get you to go to bed with me? Why else would he have paid off my debts? Why else would he have pretended his wife suggested you could save both of us by..."

"You asked me out on a _bet?_ You married me for _money?"_ Her voice cracked on the last word of both sentences, and with it, cracked Severus' heart.

"It was for both of us, love! The money was for _both_ of us! It bought us our first home, it..."

"No!" She held up a hand. "I can't hear another word."

"I truly did fall in love with you, Hermione. I love our children. I..."

"You got me pregnant on purpose! I told you I didn't want to rush into anything, as I had recently split from Ron. I told you I wasn't certain I'd ever want to marry again. I told you I didn't want children until I was at least thirty, maybe even thirty-five, once I had an established career! You didn't care about me at all! You didn't care about my wishes or my future! You cared about money!"

"Both, Hermione! I cared about both! You and the money! The money was for us, our family..."

"And foh his wife, in the hots-pital," interjected Henry.

"Your wife – _please tell me she's your ex-wife?_ – is in the hospital?"

"In the convalescent center's long term ward! It isn't as if I was cheating on you. I divorced her when it became clear she would never recover from the abuse she suffered... the abuse she suffered at the hands of that girl's mother!" He pointed furiously at the limp body of Delphini in her father's arms. "But I had to keep paying for her care. Someone had to, and I felt I owed her that much."

"You told me she left you!"

"She did, in a sense."

"You lied to me our entire relationship!"

"You a bad man," said Henry, glaring at his father.

"Please tell my son I am not a bad man!"

"I can't." She folded her arms. "I make it a point not to lie to my children."

"Oh?" His expression abruptly changed from one of devastation to one of calculating cruelness, as he decided if pleading with her wouldn't work, he wouldn't be above resorting to hurting her instead. He stood, glaring at them cockily, seemingly forgetting he was wandless. "Is that so?"

"Yes," she said determinedly. "That _is_ so."

"Have you told them the complete truth, then? Have you told them how quickly I managed to finesse you into bed? Have you told them you were technically still married at the time? Have you told them that your baby is only their half-sister? Have you told them what 'work' you do for the professor here? Have you told them what _you_ were willing to do for money? I found a copy of your Prophet ad when I was inside your home. Do our children know that their mother's no better than that psychotic bitch, Bellatrix, mother of a bastard child? That, like her, you are nothing but a lousy, hypocritical, pathetic and desperate _whore?"_

Hermione cast her stinging hex at the same moment Severus cast Sectumsempra.

Reginald dropped to his knees as blood spurted from the slashes across his torso and a large welt from the stringer formed across his face. Henry yelped with surprise, jumping back behind his mother. Helena, too, screamed, but she let go of Severus and rushed to Reginald's side, throwing herself over him, to protect him from further harm.

"Daddy!"

"No!" shouted Hermione as Severus called, "Helena!"

"What did you do to my daddy?" she asked, staring up at both adults with eyes full of tears and a sense of betrayal. "You hurted him!"

"Helena..." Hermione dropped to her knees and held out her arms. "Helena, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I got angry. I... Please, understand..."

"Help him!" she cried. She held his face between her small hands. "Daddy, are you alright? Daddy?"

"I'm alright, Hellybean."

But he was clearly not alright.

Severus swore under his breath. While he could not reverse either the Stinging Hex or Sectumsempra, he could put his daughter down and stop the bleeding...

The trouble was – did he want to?

"Mummy!" shrieked Helena. "Help my daddy!"

Just as Hermione was stepping forward to do just that, with three resounding cracks, Harry Potter and two fellow Aurors finally arrived.

-0-0-0-

Draco returned to his mother's room.

"Do not panic."

"Do not start a sentence with 'do not panic,' when you're speaking with a mother, Draco. That's the sort of sentence that panics mothers."

"Do not overreact, then, please," he amended. "They weren't home."

"They weren't home?" She was toying anxiously with an unlit cigarette. "It's after eleven. Are they at Granger's?"

"I checked. No one seems to be there either."

"Well, where are they?" Narcissa sat up straighter, though she tried to do so without disturbing her grandson, who was sleeping across her lap. "Where could they be at this hour?"

"I don't know, Mother," he said calmly. "But we have absolutely no reason to..."

"Find my little girl!" cried Narcissa, the unlit cigarette flying from her hand. "Find her!"

"You're panicking..."

"You're damn right I'm panicking! She shouldn't be missing in the middle of the night!"

"She's not _missing._ Severus is gone too, as are Hermione and her children. Perhaps they went on holiday together?"

"On holiday? You think they're on holiday? Draco, in my dream, Bellatrix did not say my baby was on holiday. She said..."

"I know what she said, but Mother, that was a dream!"

"Go to St. Mungo's, Draco. Check there. See if she's been admitted. It could be that something awful has happened to her!"

"Nothing awful has hap-"

"Go check!"

"Very well, Mother." He sighed, deciding it would be easier to placate her than to continue arguing. "I'll leave Scorpius here again and be back soon."

"Draco, when you were attacked at Hogwarts by that Potter boy, I felt it. I knew something terrible had happened to you and I didn't even need a dream to tell me so. Please do not underestimate my-"

"I know, Mother." He kissed her cheek, stroked the hair of his sleeping son, and turned to go. "I know."

-0-0-0-

Hermione filled Harry in as briefly as she could, as Severus talked another Auror through how to stop the bleeding.

"Now," said Severus, "I must go. I have to get my daughter to St. Mungo's. We've already waited too long."

"We'll go too," said Hermione, hurrying to Severus' side with a quietly sobbing Helena in her arms. Henry trailed after her. "Harry's taking care of matters here now."

"You should have killed me," Reginald shouted, struggling against the magical restraints placed upon him by the Aurors. "Snape, you coward! What sort of man lets another man go free after his child's been attacked? If you were any sort of man, you would have killed me!"

"Thirty years ago, I would have," said Severus, glaring at the loathsome, emaciated, scarred man with nothing less than pure hatred etched across his pale face. "Hell, six months ago I might have. But not now." He glanced down at Delphini, still in his aching, exhausted arms, then at Hermione and her children. "Now, I have too much to live for. Thus you shall have to pay for your crimes with your freedom, not your life."

"I never should have married you, Hermione!" He was struggling against the Aurors holding him by either arm, needing him subdued to safely apparate. "You weren't worth the money! I should've told Malfoy he could have you from the start! You were supposed to be the brightest witch of your age, but we all know all you're good for is..."

Hermione put down Helena and stepped furiously toward her ex-husband, fists clenched, but it was Harry who punched him in the jaw.

"Sorry," he said, shrugging at the other Aurors, who were now holding up Park's weight, as he'd been knocked out. "My hand slipped."

-0-0-0-

They apparated separately, but at the same time, to St. Mungo's: Hermione with her three children, Severus with Delphini. He rushed in to address the witch at the welcome desk, cutting the queue, and quickly explained that his little girl had been attacked with the Cruciatus multiple times. He followed Healers as they moved her upstairs by levitating stretcher. Hermione called after him that she would take the children to the family waiting room on that floor.

Once there, she removed Hero from her back, Vanished the contents of her diaper, transfigured two chairs into a basic crib, and set the baby down to sleep. Henry drifted off soon thereafter, unable to keep his droopy eyes open no matter how hard he fought his exhaustion, but Helena remained awake, sitting primly in a chair beside her mother, hands folded, ankles crossed, looking very much like Delphini at their first shared dinner. She was not speaking, not even when spoken too. She seemed to be in shock.

About an hour after they'd arrived, just past midnight, Harry entered the waiting area. He and Hermione hugged. He pulled up a chair to sit across from her.

"Hermione, what happened?"

"I... I don't know. It's a blur. From what I've pieced together, Reginald had been following us for some time, plus sending Narcissa Malfoy threatening notes. We think he put Lucius under the Imperius Curse to have him attack his wife. He kidnapped Henry tonight and Delphini went along with them. He tortured her. We don't know why. And he... and he... Oh, Harry." She glanced at Helena, who was still staring straight ahead, though Hermione suspected she was listening. She quickly cast Muffliato around herself and Harry. Helena did not react.

"He said his wife is in the convalescent center. He said he started dating me on a bet and married me because Lucius Malfoy paid him to. He said..." She glanced anxiously at her sleeping daughter. "Harry, I know you're conducting an investigation, but what I am about to tell you I am telling you as a friend, not as an Auror. Please don't let it leave this room."

"You can trust me, Hermione," Harry assured her, his green eyes meeting her brown ones. She could see the sincerity there. "If it's off the record, it's off the record. I won't even tell Ginny."

"Thank you." She wiped a tear from her cheek. "My daughter, Hero, my baby... she's Malfoy's. He blackmailed us. Reginald owed money, a lot of money, from having lost a series of bets on various Quidditch matches, he was betting on fixed matches, and Lucius threatened to have charges brought against me, he thought he could prove I was in on it too. He said my children would get taken away. I might even go to prison. So I agreed to..." She closed her eyes, unable to look at him as she made this admission for only the second time since it happened over two years ago. "I agreed to _be with him_ for one evening, even though I didn't want to. It seemed there was no other way. It resulted in Hero."

"Bloody hell," said Harry, sounding much like his best friend Ron. He shook his head, but was unable to shake the feeling he'd like to have his hands wrapped around the throat of Lucius Malfoy. Instead, he rubbed his sore knuckles - he'd gotten Park good. "Why did Reginald fake his own death? Why did he send threatening letters to Narcissa? Why did he return and try to kidnap Henry?"

"I don't know." She sniffled and opened her eyes, glad to see that while Harry was looking upon her empathetically, there was neither pity nor revulsion in his expression. "I haven't put all that together yet. I want to question him again. I want to speak with him before he goes before the Wizengamot."

"I'll see if we can allow that. When he does go to trial, you'll have to testify. You, probably the Malfoys, Snape, Delphini if she's able."

"I hope she'll be... Do you think she'll be alright? I could never forgive myself if... It's all my fault, you see. Reginald never would've hurt her if she hadn't gone to protect Henry, and..."

"From what I've heard, she's a strong and resilient girl, born of strong and resilient parents." Harry couldn't fight a shudder, though, as he pictured her parents together. "Bellatrix Lestrange and Professor Snape, eh? I don't understand it. I can understand what he sees in _you,_ Hermione. Even though he's... older... and it's a bit weird for me, I can understand what you like about each other, I think. But Snape and _Bellatrix?"_

"It wasn't his choice." Hermione glanced toward the door as if hoping he would enter to explain this himself. "I will not betray his confidence, but I will say that the circumstances of Delphini's creation are more similar to those of Hero's than they are different."

"Ah." Harry did not ask for further information, sensing she would not be willing to give it anyway, though he remained curious.

"I love him, Harry," Hermione whispered, even though with Muffliato cast it wasn't as if anyone, even Helena, could hear them. "It frightens me how much I love him, especially after such a short time. I didn't feel this way about Ron or about Reginald, not ever. It's... different. I can't quite explain how. It _feels_ different. I've never... I've never felt so in love like this before. And now... what if he hates me, Harry? What if Delphini is not going to be alright? What if she's permanently addled, like the Longbottoms? What if... what if..." She couldn't bring herself to voice, 'What if she dies?'

"The best Healers in the world are here, Hermione. If anyone can help her, they can."

"She's a sweet child, Harry. The Daily Prophet is wrong about her. Ron and Bill are wrong about her. She's curious and bright and brave and endearingly socially awkward. She tries to be good, and she's desperate to be loved, and whenever she's not playing dolls with Helena or helping me in the garden or Severus in the potions lab, she's got her nose in a book. Reading, studying, wanting to learn. She even reads Muggle classics! She's such a smart child, so talented, with an infinite amount of potential. But... but what if...?"

"What if what?"

"What if Reginald has robbed her of all that? What if she spends the rest of her life rotting away in that convalescent center? What if...?"

"You need to stop worrying about the 'what ifs,' Hermione." Harry squeezed her hand between his and she smiled, mentally noting how much he'd matured over the last ten years, and wishing they'd done better to maintain their friendship. "What if she's perfectly fine?"

"Even if she's perfectly fine, I can't imagine Severus won't hate me for..."

"I don't think he'll hate you. It's not your fault."

"It never would've happened if it weren't for me!"

"Cedric Diggory wouldn't have died if it weren't for me. But that doesn't make his death my fault. And Sirius wouldn't have died if it weren't for me. But that doesn't make his death my fault either. Nor Tonks or Lupin or Mad-Eye or Fred. It took me a long time after the war to accept that their deaths weren't my fault, even though you told me all along not to blame myself. Didn't you?"

"I did, but..."

"Reginald chose to lie to you. He chose to abduct Henry. He chose to Curse Delphini. All his choices. Not yours. It's his fault. Not yours."

"But what if Severus blames me? I love him so much, Harry." She wiped her damp cheeks with the sleeve of her jumper. "I couldn't stand it if he were to blame me."

"If he loves you as much as you love him, he won't." Harry pulled her into a hug. "I have to go to the Ministry, to process the paperwork on Reginald, to make sure he's safely tucked away in Azkaban. But I'll come back as soon as I can."

-0-0-0-

Draco was on his way out of St. Mungo's when Delphini was brought in. He recognized her dark hair and small frame instantly as they loaded her onto a stretcher and hovered her from the front welcome desk. Severus hurried after her and Hermione, nearby with her children, called to him that she'd be in the waiting room upstairs.

Draco sought information from the Welcome Witch but she offered nothing. He went to the ward where his cousin was surely being kept, but they, too, would tell him nothing. He went to the waiting room, where he spotted Hermione creating a crib for her daughter – his half-sister – and found he couldn't bring himself to go in there.

"You're a coward," he scolded himself as he retreated, unseen, from the waiting room. He paced the halls until he came upon his godfather, Severus, outside a locked room.

"They won't let me in," said Severus despondently. He did not ask why Draco was there. "I told them I'm her father but they wouldn't let me in. I tried to go in anyway. They threatened to have me removed from hospital property. They said I can't help her now; I can only be in the way. But what if she awakens while they're working on her? What if she's frightened? She'll need me. She's been hit no less than three times in close succession with the Cruciatus Curse, by a grown wizard. That would be enough to cause permanent damage to an adult witch. I can only imagine what it must have done to her at her age, at her size. And they won't let me in."

"I wish you'd taken charge as her father a long time ago," said Draco, not yet processing what he'd just heard. He immediately regretted his words, as Severus' face contorted as if with pain.

"I didn't know. I will forever regret..."

"Please, Severus, I'm sorry." Draco clapped him on the shoulder. "I did not mean it as a criticism. I meant, I wish you'd taken charge as her father because you're good at it. She writes me regularly. She is happy with you. You're good with her. My mother is too, don't misunderstand. My mother, for all her faults, is a decent mother, but I have my own regrets, and one is that Delphini's grown up in such an unhappy home. Until you."

"I've been a father for less than three months." Severus cast Muffliato around the two of them, then rested his forehead against the cool hospital wall. "And now, because of me, she may be dying. I hardly deserve your praise."

"She's not dying. If she were dying, they would let you in with her," Draco assured him, though his mind was racing – the Cruciatus Curse? Three times? By a grown wizard? What the bloody hell? "Besides, it would take more than the Cruciatus Curse to kill my cousin. Between you and her mother, she was made to fight back. I wouldn't be surprised if she walks out of here tomorrow on her own accord, tossing her tangled hair in that haughty way she inherited from my aunt, sneering at everyone the way you used to at Hogwarts. I can't believe I didn't figure it out sooner, that you're her father. It had to be you... ob-viously." He mimicked the way his godfather used to say the word in class, which made Severus smile ever-so-slightly. "I can't believe they're still fighting to keep her out of school. I never liked those Weasleys."

"Nor I," admitted Severus. "Save for Molly. Perhaps the twins."

"The twins were good for a laugh," agreed Draco. "I've taken Scorpius to the shop they built. He's too young for the merchandise but he likes to look around."

"I've been there a few times myself. With Hermione and the children."

"You fancy her, don't you?" Draco cleared his throat, feeling awkward for having asked. "I mean, it's clear you must, if she's... if you're..."

"I would ask her to marry me if I thought she'd say yes," he admitted, surprised by his own candor. "She's reluctant to commit, having had two such disastrous marriages thus far and being young as she is."

"But you love her?"

"Very much."

"She's... You're aware that her daughter and I... we're..."

"Half-siblings. I am aware."

"My father admitted it but would not give details. Not that I _want_ details. But it... doesn't make sense to me. What could she have possibly seen in my father? He loathes her kind. And she was the reason he nearly went to Azkaban. If he hadn't tossed his money around and feigned remorse after the war, and capitalized both on my desertion of the Dark Lord and on my mother's ability to lie to his face about Potter being dead... Granger was the one who argued most strongly that he should be sent to prison, that redemption required more than a 'Please excuse my thirty-five year error' after the fact. She saw straight through his remorseful facade and he resented her for it. I wouldn't be surprised to learn he finds her good-looking - she is - but I can't imagine she'd be attracted to him."

"Your father used to be my friend, Draco." Severus turned so it was the back of his head resting against the wall rather than his forehead. He was exhausted. His arms continued to ache and now they were starting to tingle. The pain potion was wearing off and since this one worked so much better than the others, losing it hurt more than the loss of the effects of the others used to. His thighs and calves were on fire and he half-wished he had his cane. He couldn't stand here in this hallway all night – but he refused to consider going anywhere else. Not until he knew his daughter was going to be alright.

"Yes, I know. He used to be your friend, but..."

"But as I awoke to the atrocities committed by the Dark Lord, he preferred to keep himself in denial, to ignore what we could plainly see, and when it became too much to ignore he simply excused it away. Because of this, and because he was furious to learn I'd been deceiving the Dark Lord – and, by extension, your father and all our fellow followers – we grew apart, to say the least. And yes, he did hate Hermione. I believe he still does. And while I cannot defy her confidence to tell you what brought that baby into the world, I can tell you that there was no love in it, no more so than when I fathered your aunt's baby, and if anything the result was that Hermione hated him all the more."

Draco nodded in resignation, missing, not for the first time, the father he'd had as a boy, before it went wrong, before he became an entirely different man during the second war, and worse, the man he'd been ever since.

"It must be as I suspected, then. Did he rape her?"

"Not exactly," said Severus. "But I suppose you'll hear all about it when Reginald goes on trial."

"Right," said Draco, thinking he'd better hurry back to fill in his panicked mother soon. "Wait, who's Reginald?"

-0-0-0-

Helena had never felt so conflicted in all her life.

All five years, ten months of her life.

Her father was alive.

Her father had taken her brother.

Her father had said hurtful things to her mother.

(Things Helena did not understand.)

And her mother was angry.

And Professor Snape was angry.

And it seemed to make sense to be angry.

But then they hurt her father.

They used wands on him, which is same as using hands.

They hurt his face.

They hurt his body.

They made him bleed.

They made him fall to his knees.

It was not alright to hurt someone.

We use our words, not our hands.

Daddy was bad. He did things that were bad.

But then Mummy did things that were bad.

And Professor did things that were bad.

And Delphini, what was wrong with her?

Had Daddy really hurt her? He couldn't have.

Daddy wouldn't hurt a kid. But they said he did.

And he said he did. He said she deserved it.

But she could not have deserved to get hurt.

We use our words, not our hands.

Daddy was dead. He died. You don't come back from the dead.

That's what Mummy said.

Helena felt scared and sick and hollow and broken.

Mummy told her Daddy was dead. Did Mummy lie?

Why would Mummy lie?

Mummy told Daddy she didn't believe in lying to her children.

But Daddy made it sound like she'd been telling lots of lies.

And that made Mummy angry. Professor too.

So who was lying?

Why did Daddy hurt Delphini?

Why did Mummy and Professor hurt Daddy?

Why did Daddy say Delphini deserved it?

Who could Helena trust?

No one. No one.

We use our words, not our hands.

-0-0-0-

Naturally, as soon as Narcissa heard what had happened, she wanted to go to St. Mungo's.

Both Draco and the night nurse said no.

"Sod off, both of you! I'm going!" insisted Narcissa, tearing clothes from the tiny wardrobe in her room, contemplating how to get there without her wand. "You cannot keep me here! I am not a prisoner!"

"It's not necessary for you to go!" exclaimed Draco.

"It's not safe for you to go!" said the nurse.

"Not necessary?" She glared at her son, who looked away. "The baby girl I raised is lying in a hospital bed, possibly fighting for her very life, and you think my being there is not necessary? And you!" Now she turned her glare on the nurse. "Not safe? It's a bloody hospital! I was there for weeks, recuperating! What's not safe about it? Now, unless you'd both like to see me naked, get the fuck out so I can dress. I'm leaving for St. Mungo's in five minutes!"

Frustrated, the night nurse stormed out to contact the Head Healer. Draco lifted Scorpius, still sleeping, from his mother's bed and said he'd wait in the hall to transport her.

No sense in fighting, he figured.

Narcissa was going to win in the end anyway.

-0-0-0-

When dawn broke, they were sitting in the waiting room, all in a row: Helena, Hermione, Severus, Narcissa, Draco. Hero snoozed in her transfigured crib and Henry slept in his transfigured bed. Helena was sleeping too, actually, but sitting up. Hermione hadn't wanted to risk waking the girl by moving her. Severus had finally taken some pain potion (the kind he'd been on for years before he'd been strong enough to brew his own) which had taken the edge off, though he remained sore and numb. Scorpius had been brought home to his mother around two in the morning. Her parents had been summoned to help her, as she was too sick and weak to manage him alone. Even though it was the middle of the night, they came.

The small group did not speak much, nor did the adults sleep at all.

Harry had returned around two in the morning, updated them (Reginald was safely locked away), stayed long enough for tea, and left again.

Narcissa had sipped her way through a small bottle of Merlot she'd slipped in under her robes. She'd offered some to the others but no one else wanted to partake.

Draco twisted his wand in his hand for want of anything better to do, and wished silently for news, any news, as this waiting was killing them all.

Hermione sniffled on occasion, as she had no tears left, and yet still felt as though she needed to cry. She wanted to take her lover's hand but was terrified he'd reject her attempts to comfort him.

And Severus replayed the events of the evening over and over again in his mind, trying to parse out what he could have done differently, and wondering whether it would have mattered.

Finally, a Healer entered and asked, "Are you the family of Delphini Black?"

"Yes," said Severus. "About bloody time! We're desperate for information. It's been hours!" He and Narcissa stood. She, being out of wine, was chewing her lip and twirling a cigarette between her fingers, clearly on the verge of tears. Severus carried himself more calmly, but he'd wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers upon standing, and he felt as though his heavy heart was beating at half-speed.

"She's stabilized," said the Healer, motioning for them to come with. "Her parents can see her now."

Severus followed after the Healer. Narcissa took two steps, then hesitated.

"Are you coming?" asked Severus.

"Are you her mother?" asked the Healer, turning back. She, being young, from India, and not a regular reader of the Prophet, did not realize her patient was the daughter of war hero Severus Snape and the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange, but she had seen the professor when the girl was dropped off. "She's stabilized, but her condition remains critical. _Only_ her parents can see her."

"I'm..." Narcissa hesitated.

"She's her mother," said Draco vehemently.

Severus glanced at him, then at Hermione, who nodded, and finally back at the Healer. He took Narcissa's wrist in his hand.

"Yes," he confirmed. "This is Delphini's mother. I'm her father."

"Very well," said the Healer, looking them over discerningly. "Follow me."

-0-0-0-

News of Reginald Park's arrest made the Daily Prophet, but as the full story wasn't out yet, it was hardly worthy of the front page. Under an ad for the newest racing brooms, a quarter page article was accompanied by a picture of the her ex, handsome and smiling, taken when he worked for the Ministry.

 _Reginald R. Park, 41, thought dead since April, was arrested on 5 November. He was placed into custody by Head of the Auror Office Harry Potter, along with Aurors Cadence Christopher and Rocco Level shortly before midnight, and has since been charged with multiple crimes against several victims, the extent of which has not yet been released. This allegedly includes_ _the abduction of Park's own son, Henry J. Granger, 3, whose mother is Park's ex-wife, Hermione J. Granger, 29, and the additional kidnapping of Delphini D. Black, 11, the illegitimate daughter of Bellatrix D. Lestrange (1951-1998) and Severus T. Snape, 48, rumored to be Granger's latest fling. Park is believed to have_ _used the Cruciatus Curse on the First Year girl no less than three times._

 _The accused is currently being held in Azkaban, awaiting trial, the date for which has been tentatively set for 15 December, assuming Black is able to testify by then._

 _As of press time, Delphini Black remains in stable but critical care at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries._ _No official word yet on whether the Cruciatus Curse has in any way permanently addled her brain._ _An anonymous source reports that while Black has been able to sit up and feed herself, she is neither able to walk nor speak._

 _When questioned for details outside Black's private hospital room, former Hogwarts Headmaster Snape had naught but expletives to share, and was led away by Mediwitch Siobhan Carrigan, who later requested "understanding and patience" from the public on behalf of the girl's maternal aunt, Narcissa R. Malfoy, 52, who has "remained by the girl's side" since shortly after the attack._

 _Delphini Black was in the news several weeks ago when her own use of the Cruciatus Curse against a fellow First Year student led to her three-plus month suspension from_ _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, possible expulsion pending. It is not yet k_ _nown whether the child will be well enough to return to campus_ _in January, assuming she is permitted to do so._

 _Pressed for comment, Bill Weasley, recently elected Head of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, would say only, "We will be voting on the matter of Delphini Black's future at the school over the Christmas holiday, as initially planned, but in the interim we extend our sympathies to her and her family during this difficult period."_


	52. Flights of Angels

**CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO**

 **Flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Delphini looked impossibly small in her hospital bed.

Narcissa burst into tears upon sight of her. She leaned over the rail of the bed and kissed her niece's forehead, but the child did not stir.

"Is she in a coma?" asked Narcissa through her tears. "Does she know we're here?"

Severus reached out to stroke his daughter's hair. When he was in a coma, he flitted between consciousness and oblivion, but mostly existed somewhere between the two, in a dreamlike state in which the words of those in his room at times permeated his thoughts, but were not quite steeped in realism.

"We think she can hear us," said the young Healer, who had introduced herself as Abida Devi. "Suffering such a curse takes a lot out of anyone, but especially a child." She eyed the jagged red scar across Narcissa's throat, then glanced suspiciously at Severus. Being Legilimens, both Delphini's father and aunt knew what Healer Devi was thinking.

"He didn't do this," said Narcissa, at the same moment Severus said, "I did not hurt them."

Healer Devi continued in a flat tone. "The Cruciatus Curse is an Unforgivable for a reason. It should never be used as a punishment. The permanent harm that can be caused..."

"The man who did it was arrested by Aurors last night, led by Harry Potter himself," interrupted Severus. "We did not do this to punish our child. She was kidnapped and Cursed by my girlfriend's ex-husband."

"Your girlfriend's ex-husband," said Healer Devi slowly, wondering to whom she ought to report this obviously improper parental situation. "I see."

Narcissa shook her head. She reached across Delphini to grab Healer Devi's hand. "You don't understand. Severus and I, we're not... together. We... _were_... together, a long time ago, but... that's been over for a decade." This was, technically, not a lie. "I have no issues with his girlfriend. And besides, I'm married. The only person with an issue is the aforementioned ex-husband, who has since been arrested."

"And your throat?" asked the Healer.

"I was attacked," answered Narcissa. "In my home. But Delphini was away at school at the time. She was in no danger. And Severus had nothing to do with it."

"We believe the man who attacked her was under the Imperius Curse," Severus further explained. "But both he and the man presumed behind the attack are currently in Azkaban. We are not perfect people, Healer Devi, but Delphini's well-being is of the utmost importance to both of us, and..."

"And that's why we're raising her together," finished Narcissa. This, too, was close enough to the truth, she reckoned.

"Ah. Well." Healer Devi shrugged, letting it drop. "Good you can be here together for your daughter, then."

Narcissa and Severus exchanged a glance.

The Healer continued her explanation.

"Thankfully, Delphini does not seem to have suffered any permanent internal damage as a result of the Cruciatus Curse. Surprisingly, in some ways children are able to withstand it better than their adult counterparts. They're resilient; their bodies bounce back faster. Give her a month or two, and she'll likely be back to walking and running and even flying on broomstick, if she so desires."

"Two months?" Narcissa bent down to kiss the girl's cheek. "That seems so long."

"What about her mind?" asked Severus.

"Her mind... the minds of children are less fully formed than those of adults, too, but while this is good for the body..." Healer Devi placed her hand gently on sleeping Delphini's forearm, which was resting across her stomach. "We won't be able to properly assess the damage until she wakes up, but you should begin to prepare yourselves now: it could be severe. Until she's awake, it's impossible to tell."

-0-0-0-

When the children awoke, they were cranky, whiny, and hungry for breakfast. Hermione told Severus she would take them home and find a way to return later in the day, to be with him.

"Go to Spinner's End," he requested. "Pack a bag for me, and one for Delphini. I will come by this afternoon to retrieve them. We will need clothes..."

"I know what to pack," said Hermione. She kissed his cheek. He did not kiss her back. She felt a sharp pang in her stomach. So it was as she'd feared, then. He thought it was her fault. He was blaming her. He must be.

She understood.

She deserved it.

But it still hurt.

Draco helped her to get the children back to Severus' house by apparating with Henry so she wouldn't have to hold onto all three. She offered him eggs and toast before his return home and to her surprise, he accepted.

During breakfast, no one spoke much. Hero and Henry still seemed tired, despite having slept most of the night, and Helena was as oddly frozen as she'd been in the hospital waiting room the night before, hands folded when she wasn't eating, staring at her plate, mumbling one-word answers to any questions.

When the meal was done, Hermione sent the older children into the parlor to play and handed Hero a wooden spoon to entertain her in her high chair. She began washing the dishes, forgoing magic.

"Well..." Draco began awkwardly. He wasn't sure he'd ever had a civilized conversation with Hermione Granger, and they'd certainly never chatted one-to-one. "That's my half-sister?"

"I suppose so." She added dish soap to the sink full of hot water. "Did your father tell you or did you figure it out on your own?"

"I figured it out and confronted him. He confessed to having had 'one transgression.' But Severus..." He broke off, realizing he probably shouldn't tell her he'd spoken about this to her... whatever Severus was to her. He changed directions. "But I can't imagine you and my father had an affair. He's not your... type. And vice-versa."

"We did not have an affair." She grabbed a cloth and began rubbing it over one of the dirty plates, her back to Draco, unable to look at him.

"If you need money... for the child... I could..."

"I don't want your money, Malfoy," she snapped, scrubbing the plate with unnecessary vigor. "You don't have to pay me off like you must the mothers of any of your father's other _transgressions._ I'll keep her a secret for free. No sense in ruining what's left of your good name. Especially not if my boyfriend and your mother are going to be raising a child together. A potentially damaged child... damaged, because of me. Damn it. Damn it!" She rinsed the clean plate and placed it on the drying rack. She liked that Severus had never gotten around to updating the kitchen, with its low-hanging electric light fixtures, various 60's-made appliances, and bland Muggle decorations. It was strangely comforting, feeling free from magic while doing domestic duties.

"I didn't mean to insult you," he said softly.

"Have you any idea what a terrible mess this all is? My boyfriend and your mother are raising a child together, the child of her sister, who branded me with this slur in my arm." She turned her arm over to show him. He flinched. "Your mother and my boyfriend, who used to be a sort of covert item themselves, but aren't now, and who would have had their own child, less than a year younger than Delphini, had they not chosen to abort it. They're a bit like divorced parents, aren't they? With a child he created that she'd raised, a child whose mother... I can't think about her mother. Oh, it's all so terribly convoluted!"

Draco opened his mouth to respond but Hermione pressed on as if he weren't even present.

"Meanwhile, I have a baby with your father. My baby is your half-sister and if Severus and I were to marry, that would mean that your half-sister would be the stepsister of your cousin, who was raised as if she were your sister. And why does my daughter even exist? Because of a deal struck up between my second husband and your married father. But fear not! Your mother intends to divorce your father, at which time she can go public with her relationship with my ex-boyfriend, whom I introduced her to. Oh, and in ten years, my daughter will head off to school to share classes with her secret half-nephew, who looks just like her. We'll see if anyone notices the resemblance. Ugh!" She threw her washcloth down on the counter. "It sounds like the premise of the worst sort of soap opera!"

"Soap opera?" Draco recognized both of those words but had no idea what they meant when paired together. "Singing soap?"

"It's a type of Muggle television show."

"Muggle what?"

"Never mind." She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, getting bubbles in her eyebrows.

"Hermione..." Draco stared at Hero, who was waving at him. He waved back. "Hermione, did you say my mother dated Snape?"

"I don't know what I said." She plucked another plate from the soapy water, grabbed her cloth, and resumed washing. "Since the war ended, I've had more nightmares about your aunt Bellatrix than I can count. Your cousin looks so much like her, I was afraid I'd never be able to set aside what I feel about her mother and get to know her, but to my surprise, it was considerably easier than I'd imagined. She's a smart girl. A few days ago, the children were all sick. All four of them. And they were bored. Severus was reading to Henry and I had to give Hero a bath. I poked my head in Delphini's room because I was going to ask Helena to get in the tub with her sister, but they were sitting on the floor, having a tea party with their dolls. I don't know if dolly tea party is something Delphini would play on her own or if it was just for Helena's benefit, but it was rather sweet and it made Helena quite happy. She hasn't got any friends."

"They have that in common, then. Delphini was hoping to make friends at Hogwarts, but..."

"I know. Severus used to read her letters aloud to me. I'd help him translate them from pre-teen to adult. I wish I knew a way... I wish we could do something..."

"I think she should change Houses. To Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Get a fresh start." He retrieved the wooden spoon his half-sister had just tossed on the floor. She promptly stuck the handle in her mouth.

"That's not a bad idea." Hermione placed another plate in the dry rack. "I wonder if McGonagall would go for it."

"If she's allowed back in, that is."

"And if she's still able to learn," said Hermione.

-0-0-0-

Severus and Narcissa headed back to the waiting room, having been temporarily removed from Delphini's room when Panagiota Trantalis, an expert in the effects of Dark Magic on minors, arrived from Greece to examine her.

"Can you believe such an expert even exists?" Narcissa asked Severus as they made their way back to the waiting room.

"Yes," he answered. "If I'm not mistaken, that same expert cared for Neville Longbottom when he was a year old, after your sister Cursed his parents into insanity and then used a powerful Obliviation on him that permanently affected his memory. Had it not been for Ms. Trantalis, he might not have ended up as bad off as they were."

"My sister did that?"

"You didn't know about her torturing the Longbottoms?"

"No, I meant about their son..." She sighed. "I need a cigarette."

He looked her over with surprise. "Since when do you smoke?"

"It's been a couple of weeks now." She shrugged nonchalantly, then pulled a pack out of the pocket of her dress. "Would you like one?"

"No, I value my lungs. I need them to breathe. Especially as I intend to live to be a hundred."

She tsked at this. "You sound like Lucius. He hates smoking. Cigarettes, cigars, elven herbs, he hates it all. That's why I'm doing it. I want to do _everything_ I haven't been allowed to do, and I only have one year in which to do it. On a related note... have you ever snorted powdered moonstone? I've heard that's something people do."

Severus cocked an eyebrow. "Narcissa, I think you may be taking this newfound freedom a bit too far. And what do you mean you only have one year?"

-0-0-0-

It hadn't even been eight hours and already prison was taking its toll on Reginald Park. Though Dementors only circled outside the rock on which Azkaban was built, leaving Aurors alone to guard the inside, the feelings of darkness and death and despair that came with their presence permeated the air.

"You've got a great cell," Auror Christopher informed him, once he was safely shackled inside. "You've got yourself a little window and a lot of history. See those crazy carvings on the wall there? Done by none other than Bellatrix Lestrange, You-Know-Who's most devoted Death Eater. This was her cell for some thirteen years. They say she held onto her sanity by writing letters to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, scratched into the stone with her fingernails. Far as I know, no one's been able to actually read them, but hey, maybe you'll be the one to crack the code. If nothing else, gives you a way to pass the time."

Reginald, already pale from a mix of malnutrition, lack of exposure to the sun in recent months, and a general feeling of malaise, blanched.

"This was the cell of Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"That's right," said Auror Christopher cheerfully. "It's been vacant for years. Matter of fact, I think you're the first to be placed here since she broke out in '96. Oh!" A loud horn was sounding from somewhere far off on the small island. "That sound means my shift is ending. You look exhausted. Might want to get some sleep. Sweet dreams!"

-0-0-0-

Harry Potter brought pastries and coffee to the hospital and was at once disappointed and relieved to find that Hermione had taken the children home. He offered the breakfast to Severus and Narcissa, who accepted, though neither ate or drank much.

"We used Priori Incantatem on his wand," Harry informed them. "It confirmed what you already suspected: Reginald Park had Lucius Malfoy under the Imperius Curse when he attacked you. They'll be releasing him shortly."

"Lucius deserves a lifetime in Azkaban anyway," Severus said insistently. "He beats his wife."

Narcissa smacked him on the arm.

"I... I'm sorry," said Harry awkwardly, looking taken aback. "Would you like to press charges?"

"Of course not."

"I will," said Severus. "On her behalf."

Harry shook his head. "You can't press domestic abuse charges against an adult on behalf of another adult."

Severus sneered, knowing it was unlikely Hermione would want to press assault charges against him either, and frustrated by the knowledge that Malfoy would soon walk out of prison a free man... again.

"Did Park tell you why, Potter?" Narcissa leaned forward in her chair, her coffee mug in hand. "Did he tell you _why_ he made Lucius attack me? I just want to know why."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Malfoy." Harry broke off a piece of cinnamon danish. "He didn't say."

-0-0-0-

"Do you hate me?"

Hermione let the last plate sink back into the dishwater. She finally turned around to face Draco.

"Pardon?"

"My family has... my family has not been kind to you, to put it mildly. I was a real prat back in school. My aunt literally tortured you. My father gave you a baby you didn't ask for. My mother... well... I don't know, I can only speculate about what you must think of my mother. I wouldn't blame you if you hated me. But I swear on the grave of my grandfather, I'm not the same person I was. Being almost made into a murderer by the Dark Lord had a profound effect on me. And everything that followed... It doesn't matter how much time or money I donate, it'll never be enough, and now that I have a son and my wife is ill... Time and experience have a way of changing one's perspective."

"Trust me," said Hermione. She placed the last dish in the dry rack and moved to lift her daughter from the highchair. "I know better than most people how time and experience can change a person."

"So do you hate me?

She thought this over for only a second before answering.

"No. No, Draco, I honestly do not hate you. How could I?" The words her daughter had spoken to Reginald last night came back to her: "I don't even know you."

-0-0-0-

Harry chatted with Severus and Narcissa for over an hour before Mediwitch Siobhan Carrigan came to escort them back to Delphini's room. Narcissa was pleased to see her, despite the circumstances, and they headed down the hallway together, arms linked. Severus hung back to speak to Harry alone. They walked slowly.

"Hermione feels guilty. I could sense it. She shouldn't."

"I know," said Harry. "I talked to her about it last night. She thinks it's her fault your daughter was attacked."

"It isn't."

"I know. But you and I both know that no amount of telling her not to blame herself won't stop her from doing precisely that."

"Do you still blame yourself for your godfather's death?" asked Severus, aware that young Harry had also blamed him for it, for having goaded Sirius.

"Yes," answered Harry. "But I try not to. Do you still blame yourself for my mother's?"

Severus was quiet for a long moment, such a long moment Harry thought he wouldn't answer. Finally, just as they reached Delphini's door, Severus turned to him.

"I blame myself for your mother's death because it was my fault. If I hadn't been eavesdropping and overheard half the prophecy then run off to tell my master like the pathetic lapdog I was, he never would have targeted you, and by extension, your mother. Your circumstances are different. Sirius Black was a grown man who made a choice to go to the Ministry to save his godson - a child. His death was at the hand of his cousin, orchestrated by an exceptionally talented and undeniably evil dark wizard. Sirius made a choice, and the outcome was not your fault. Similarly, what happened to Delphini happened because Reginald Park made a choice – a series of choices – and not because of anything Hermione did or did not do. I do not blame her."

"Does Narcissa?"

"No." He peered through the open door. Through the crack they could see Narcissa settling back in the wooden chair beside Delphini's bed, and taking the small girl's hand between her own and pressing her lips to the back of it. Siobhan stood beside her. He could not hear what the Mediwitch was saying. "I believe, though she has not said so, that Narcissa blames me. Delphini is my daughter. She was in my care. I should have been able to protect her."

"That doesn't seem fair," said Harry. Severus laughed.

"As I've told you before, and as I've told Delphini, it may have escaped your notice, but life is not fair."

Harry nodded, remembering having heard those exact words from the potions professor over a decade ago. "This Greek Dark Magic expert, she saved Neville, didn't she? If she could fix him, surely she can help Delphini."

Severus nodded, but the worry etched across his face could not be hidden away, not even by the strongest Occlumens.

"I hope you're right, Potter."

-0-0-0-

After Draco departed via Floo Network, Hermione packed overnight bags for Severus and Delphini, using expandable charms on both, as she'd done to the magic bag she'd carried around during the war. She sent all three children into Severus' childhood bedroom to play with the ever-increasing number of toys, though Helena chose to sit on the bed and read while Henry zoomed the trains around on the floor and Hero tossed stuffed animals out of her crib.

In Severus' bag, Hermione placed a week's worth of outfits, several extra pairs of socks, the Dragon's Nightshade pain potion, his toothbrush, a comb that she doubted he'd use (he was as bad as his daughter when it came to hair), deodorant, and some light reading material: Hamlet.

"No, Hermione, that's a ridiculous choice," she scolded herself aloud. She removed it and tossed in Les Miserables instead, but quickly plucked that back out too. "Don't you have any happy books?" she whispered, running her fingertips across the spines on the shelf of books in his bedroom. Just as she was considering running downstairs to grab one from the sitting room instead, she came across a worn old of Shakespeare's As You Like It: a comedy. "Perfect."

She then did the same for Delphini. Clothes, pajamas, toothbrush, etc., with a copy of the only children's book she could find in the room, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, her Charms textbook, her diary (Hermione struggled with the desire to read a little from it first, but ultimately put it in the bag without doing so) and her beloved doll, BELLA.

When he arrived to take the bags, Hero and Henry had just gone down for their naps and Helena was curled up on the end of the couch, hugging her own favorite doll, with a closed book beside her. She staring blankly at the fire cackling in the fireplace.

"Any news?" asked Hermione, hoping he couldn't tell how relieved she was by the fact that he kissed her hello.

"She opened her eyes for several seconds but her gaze was unfocused. Thank you for this." He gestured toward the bags, which were on the low table in front of the couch.

"Anything you need..."

"You," he said quickly, cutting her off. "All I need is to know you're here."

Even though she felt silly for it, she could feel tears forming in her eyes. She placed a gentle palm against his cheek. "I love you, Severus."

His lips pressed tenderly against hers. "I love you, too," he murmured when they parted. He reached for the bags, bent down to kiss Helena on the forehead, and bid them both goodbye.

"I will notify you as soon as I have any further information," he said. Then, with a resounding crack, he was gone.

-0-0-0-

On the second day, Delphini opened her eyes again.

On the third, she sat up.

On the fourth, she fed herself soup.

On the fifth, she stood and stretched.

On the sixth, she walked from her bed to the loo.

And on the seventh, thanks to the considerable combined efforts of Healer Panagiota Trantalis, Mediwitch Siobhan Carrigan, her encouraging father, her anxious aunt, and a rather vivid dream in which she was visited by her beloved, devoted mother, she finally spoke.

"I thought he was going to kill me."

-0-0-0-

Lucius Malfoy was released from Azkaban on Monday, the 23rd of November, disgraced and depressed, but cleared of all charges relating to the attempted murder of his wife.

When news that he'd been the one to have violated her and slit her throat while under another man's Imperius Curse hit the Daily Prophet, the wizarding world suddenly became considerably more interested in the arrest of Reginald Park. The kidnapping and Delphini's condition were now front page news.

Suddenly, instead of having to deal with one nosy reporter skulking about seeking a statement, there were half a dozen different ones on a daily basis. One persistent reporter even managed to sneak into her room in the middle of the night to take a picture before being removed from hospital property by a security troll.

The following day, the Daily Prophet used it to accompany an article that was more gossip than news.

"Did you see this story by Rita Skeeter?" Matilda Wood handed the paper across the Gryffindor table to Victorie Weasley.

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Victoire. "It says she could have died!"

"She got what was coming to her, far as I'm concerned," said Matilda coldly, tucking into her breakfast. "She used the Cruciatus Curse on you so this Park fellow used it on her. Seems fair, eh? She deserved it."

Victoire nodded, but staring down at the picture of Delphini in her hospital bed, looking impossibly small but with huge, terrified eyes, she couldn't help thinking it didn't seem fair at all.

No one deserved that.

-0-0-0-

Time passed slowly.

It was now the end of November.

Hermione and her children had spent the three weeks since the attack splitting their time between the London flat and Severus' home, though she returned to London less and less, especially once Severus started coming home after dinner most nights and leaving again before breakfast, though often he ended up sleeping on his couch, too tired to make his way upstairs and unwilling to be far from the Floo, just in case.

Helena was still oddly quiet, which was concerning to Hermione. She tried to talk to the girl about what had happened, but all Helena would say was, "It's alright, Mummy," even though, obviously, it was far from it.

During the third week of Delphini's convalescence, on one of the rare days that Hermione and the children were in London, Harry Potter and Kingsley Shacklebolt – the Minister himself – showed up unexpectedly to _officially_ offer her the position Padma Patil was vacating in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Her old job, but with better pay, and the added benefit of being able to send her younger children to the childcare center the Ministry opened down the hall from Arthur Weasley's office over the summer.

"It's an attractive offer," she said honestly. "One I greatly appreciate. But I can't make that decision on the spot. I'll have to discuss it with... with my... with Severus first."

"Of course," said Kingsley in his deep, resonating voice. "Ms. Patil takes over her new position on the fifteenth of December."

Hermione's chest tightened. The fifteenth of December was the tentative date set for Reginald's Wizengamot trial. Harry realized this, of course, but the Minister was unaware.

"I would appreciate it if you could inform us one way or the other by the eighth, Ms. Granger."

That gave her almost two weeks to decide.

"Yes, yes of course. Thank you Minister." She shook his hand. "And thank you, Harry." He received a quick hug. "I will be in touch soon."

-0-0-0-

Delphini wanted to go home.

Though a part of her had liked having the constant attention of her aunt and her father during her weeks in the hospital, she was sick of the hospital bed, sick of the hospital food, and sick of the hospital smell.

Thus, as soon as Healer Devi, Dark Magic expert Trantalis, and Mediwitch Carrigan agreed that she was ready, she begged to leave.

Narcissa would not be going back to the convalescent center, but did not think it would be healthy for her niece to return with her to Malfoy Manor with Lucius there, thus it was she who suggested Severus take the girl back to his home on Spinner's End, to his great relief as he was worried they'd end up fighting over her.

"Are you certain you wish to return to Malfoy Manor?" Severus asked Narcissa once they were outside of Delphini's room. "Surely you could stay elsewhere."

"It's only for a month. Not even a month. I can move into my new chambers at Hogwarts right after Christmas. In the interim, I'm going to be living on the third floor, down the hall from Draco and Astoria, and I'm not worried."

"I'm worried."

"Don't be worried."

"Won't Lucius be angry about your relationship with Krum?"

She smiled. "Oh, dear Severus, I'm not seeing him anymore. It was nice while it lasted."

"While it lasted?" He looked at her incredulously. "How long did it last?"

"He didn't like that I'd started seeing someone else. I told him I wanted to continue seeing him too, but... The poor fellow, he was unwilling to share, and I was unwilling to commit to exclusivity, given my circumstances. It's a shame, really. I truly _do_ love him."

Severus' jaw dropped. "You're seeing someone else? Already? Since when? And how? We've been here for almost a month."

"I know." She smiled at someone over his shoulder. He turned, expecting to find some new, handsome man, perhaps a Healer, but the only person he spotted down the hall was Siobhan Carrigan, the mediwitch. Siobhan waved. Narcissa waved back. Narcissa flashed a grin at Severus, who felt he'd missed something.

"What?"

"Severus, darling, I _told_ you, I _only_ have a year, and while Viktor is a sweet and wonderful young man, I want to try _absolutely everything_ before my life's over."

He stared at her, too shocked to speak, for several seconds.

Then he threw his head back and laughed.

-0-0-0-

Hermione opened her eyes and stretched. She was alone in Severus' bed... but not alone in his house. She could hear footsteps downstairs, and whispers, and a soft whimper of pain.

She smiled.

Thank Merlin.

They were home.

-0-0-0-

Once Severus ensured Delphini was resting comfortably in her own bed in the bedroom that had formerly belonged to his parents, he headed for the bathroom. He was sore, exhausted, and emotionally drained. After a long, hot shower he threw on the pajama pants he'd left hanging on the back of the door with his robe and headed to his bedroom, ready to pass out.

But his bed was already occupied.

"You're here," he said. She shot him a shaky smile.

"Is it alright that I'm here? I haven't been going home much. Home hasn't... it hasn't felt much like home."

"It's alright that you're here." He stood with his back to the closed bedroom door, staring at her, waging a silent mental battle between wanting to crawl into bed to pass out and wanting to crawl into bed to make love to her.

"You must be exhausted," she said, drawing back the covers, making the decision for him. "Come here. You need to sleep."

He was out before his head hit the pillow.

-0-0-0-

Helena heard Severus and Delphini apparate home. She heard them talking on the stairs, moving slowly, and heard the creak of Delphini's bedroom door when he left her room. She heard him head to the bathroom and could even hear the whoosh of the water from the shower head.

She got up quietly, without disturbing Henry, and padded across the hall to Delphini's room. The door wasn't closed all the way, but it wasn't open enough for her to enter without making it creak. She crept over to Delphini's bed. Yellowy-pink light was streaming in through the window. It was just-past sunrise.

"Delphini?" Helena whispered. She stood beside the bed, peering at the girl's face. She looked normal. She looked like her regular self. Helena breathed a sigh of relief. She'd spent these three weeks secretly irrationally terrified that Delphini would as her father had after he'd been hit with the two hexes or jinxes or curses sent from her mother and Professor's wands, but the girl had no marks across her face, no blood on the front of her nightdress.

"Helena?" Delphini opened her eyes. "What're you doing here?"

"I was so worried!" Helena cried, sounding more maternal than childlike, as she threw herself dramatically across Delphini's upper body. The older girl grinned, rather enjoying this welcome. Though her arms were sore and tired, she pulled Helena into the bed with her and placed the BELLA doll between them.

"It's alright, Helena! _I'm_ alright! They thought my brain might be broken or something but I'm too tough for that. Like my auntie used to say all the time, I am my mother's daughter."

"What does that mean?" asked Helena, sniffling. She patted BELLA doll's fine hair, relieved to see her again too.

"It means my mum was tough so I'm tough too. Don't tell anybody, Helena..." Delphini dropped her voice to a whisper. "But my mum came to me in a dream, before I could start talking again. She told me she knew I would get better. She told me no one can stop me from doing anything I put my mind to, because I'm a Black, and we get what we want no matter what. And she even told me she loved me." Delphini beamed. "That's the first time I ever heard her tell me she loves me. And that's all I've ever wanted, really. To know that she loves me. Isn't that nice? Now I know for certain."

" _I_ love you," said Helena, snuggled up contentedly. "That's how come I was so worried."

* * *

 **A/N:**

I know it's a day early, so I'm sorry, but I really wanted to get this out there, mostly because I'm super swamped with the work I'm actually supposed to be doing (final edits for my book are due back to my agent on the 24th - wish me luck!) and it's hard for me to concentrate on that when my head is full of HP fanfiction! (lol)

 **Coming Up in 53 & 54:**

Reginald goes on trial, everyone testifies

Delphini is either expelled or allowed to go back

Lucius makes a final appearance

Narcissa prepares to start her new life as a professor

Henry says the F-word maybe once or twice more

Toddler Hero meets Toddler Scorpius - her nephew

Rolf and Luna return from Greece

Severus and Hermione try to figure out their future

And Christmas!

(Plus, the epilogue)

As always, thanks for reading, reviewing, following and adding to faves!

Your reviews makes me happier than a niffler left alone in a jewelry store.

 **-AL :)**

 **PS:** **HenriettaV** \- I can't send a PM since you weren't logged in, but your review to Chapter 50 made me realize I'd made an error. In that, I said Bellatrix was fifteen when she first slept with Voldemort, but previously she'd told Severus she was thirteen, so I fixed it. The "too young" part meant too young for him, since she was barely a teenager and he was almost 40. :) Thx!


	53. Twas My Word

**CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE**

 **Ay... 'twas my word.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Narcissa returned to Malfoy Manor as planned, but was careful to interact with her soon-to-be-ex husband as little as possible. Draco helped to provide a buffer between them on those rare occasions that they did find themselves in the same room at the same time, and Lucius, to everyone's surprise, respected his wife's wishes by not coming up to the third floor of his own Manor, while requesting only that Narcissa not have men stay the night.

She agreed to his provision.

Her new girlfriend didn't seem to mind.

-0-0-0-

Severus hovered around Delphini for the entire first week she was home, insisting upon doing as much for her as possible, including fetching things for her, reading aloud to her from her textbooks, and practically trying to spoon-feed her.

Just as this behavior from Draco had done to her aunt Narcissa, it drove the girl batty.

"I'm not a baby, Dad!" she said one night when he insisted she should let him carry her upstairs after dinner. "I'm not too weak to walk!"

"Healer Devi says you need to be careful not to engage in overly strenuous activity until you're ready..."

"I don't think walking is overly strenuous!"

His eyes narrowed. "Yesterday you told me you couldn't wash your hair because showering is overly strenuous."

Delphini's cheeks went pink. Her fingers immediately went to the rat's next around her head, but she couldn't use them to comb through the tangled locks.

"That's different," she mumbled, trying to avoid his stern stare.

"I'll go upstairs with you," offered Hermione, holding out the girl's cane. It was the one Severus had used for so long, but transfigured to be perfectly sized for an eleven-year-old. "Before bed tonight, how about you take a bubble bath and I'll handle your hair?"

Delphini did not like the idea of her hair being 'handled,' but the thought of a bubble bath intrigued her. Would she be bathing inside a bubble or would there be bubbles around her? Would she use a Bubble-head charm? Would bathing in bubbles similar to 'bathing' in sunlight?

"Fine," she reluctantly agreed, using her cane to help her stand. "Let's see what this bubble bath is all about."

-0-0-0-

Now that Delphini was home, Helena started to relax. And after a couple of days, she was finally ready to talk to her mother and Severus about what happened.

She tried to understand, but it was all still so confusing. Her father had only pretended to be dead, her mother had hurt him even though she didn't believe in hurting people, and Professor Snape had seemed downright scary when he got angry. Plus her father had hurt Delphini, which made the least sense of all.

But she wanted to be a good girl, an agreeable girl, so she accepted their explanations and their apologies... even though it didn't make much sense to her at all.

And she wasn't certain she could ever fully trust anyone - not even her mummy - ever again.

-0-0-0-

Meanwhile, Hermione was running out of days to decide whether she would take the job.

Harry wanted her to take the job.

The Minister wanted her to take the job.

Hermione wanted to take the job.

Severus did not want her to take the job.

But because he knew she wanted it, Severus encouraged her to take the job.

So Hermione took the job.

She was set to begin once Padma Patil vacated the position, but since that Monday was also the set date for Reginald's trial, she would be starting on Wednesday instead.

She couldn't wait.

She was ready.

And yet...

She wasn't.

-0-0-0-

Henry was excused from testifying on account of his young age, but Helena, at almost six, was expected to be questioned, though Harry promised Hermione they would make it as comfortable and non-intimidating for the child as possible, by giving her a chair and letting her hold her doll.

Delphini was set to speak too. Harry had come over to the house on Spinner's End twice to work with her on her testimony.

"Telling the truth is the most important thing you can do, of course," he advised. "Try to keep your answers clear and concise – that means basic – without adding your opinions. If you're asked how many times he used the Cruciatus Curse, for example, you tell them how many times exactly and that's all. Don't say something like, 'It felt like a hundred.' We want the Wizengamot to have all of the necessary information but nothing superfluous."

-0-0-0-

On the 15th of December, as originally scheduled, Reginald Park's Wizengamot trial was held.

Reporters were barred from entering. But that didn't stop them from milling about outside the courtroom, hoping to get an interesting comment or a good picture, even after Severus told them to bugger off and threatened to break one of their cameras if they photographed the children.

Adult viewers were permitted in the courtroom, but children were not, thus Hermione and Severus sent the four of them to the new childcare center on Arthur Weasley's floor.

"We'll take good care of them!" Penelope Clearwater-Corner promised pleasantly. She was in charge of the place. "We have a gated area for babies, a number of board games for the little guy, a great puzzle station for this one, and I see your eldest brought a book. They'll be fine. Don't worry!"

Hermione and Severus thanked her, promised the older girls they'd be back to get them soon, handed over Hero's diaper bag, and reminded Henry in no uncertain terms that he was to behave himself at all times.

They were mere steps down the hall when they heard him yell, "Fuck Snakes and Ladders!" followed by Helena scolding, "Henry John Granger, you pick that up right now!"

"Should we go back and check on them?" asked Hermione.

Severus linked his arm with hers and shook his head.

"No. Just walk faster."

-0-0-0-

Hermione had to wait in the hall until Severus' testimony was complete.

Next, she took the stand.

She talked a little about the dissolution of her second marriage, explaining that she'd filed for divorce because Reginald had been lying to her about money and she was no longer able to forgive him after she discovered he'd bet so much after promising to stop that they were set to lose absolutely everything. She admitted she worried about being implicated if it was determined he'd been putting money on fixed Quidditch matches, even though she had nothing to do with it.

She explained that she was pregnant, but didn't know it yet, when she packed up their children and left him. She did not mention what had happened with Lucius.

She shared that she'd found the circumstances of his death suspicious, but she'd assumed he'd been murdered by an unknown assailant, like Amelia Bones and Emmeline Vance. She swore she never suspected that he'd faked his death, like Barty Crouch Jr. and Peter Pettigrew.

"Perhaps I was simply so relieved that he was gone, I was unable to consider he might not be," she admitted tearfully. "Even when Helena thought she had seen him, I told her she was wrong. I thought she was seeing what she wanted to see, but it turns out I was the one forcing myself to believe what wasn't true."

She spoke in great detail about what happened the night of the fireworks, including confessing to having hit him with a Stinging Hex after he'd called her a whore in front of the children.

"Why, of all insults, would he have called you that?" asked one of the Chief Warlocks, a gaunt man with a long beard.

"Because of my relationship with Professor Snape," she answered quickly, having prepared for such a question. "It's no secret that I started working for him at the start of the summer, assisting in his private potions lab and helping with domestic chores around the house. We quickly became friends, and after awhile we began seeing each other socially, but he continued to pay me for the work I was doing until recently. Reginald was not the first man to insinuate there was something inappropriate in our relationship, but the truth is, I did _legitimate_ work for Professor Snape – I'm still brewing with him, actually, though I start a new job with the Ministry this week – and our developing relationship in _no way_ negates that. Severus values and respects me as no other man ever has, we have so much in common, I love him, and no matter what anyone says - least of all, my ex-husband - I am not now, nor have I ever been, a prostitute."

The witches and wizards on the Wizengamot nodded and muttered amongst themselves. It seems they'd accepted her answer without question, and a couple of witches even sent smiles in Severus' direction, clearly finding her love declaration quite touching. Reginald, on the other hand, was glaring daggers at her.

Hermione joined Severus in the viewing area as Narcissa testified next. She went into detail about the notes she'd received, which, thankfully, she'd saved, along with the broken pieces of her husband's wand and the snake's head of his walking stick. She also described the attack on her during which he'd used her sister's old knife.

"I have no idea where he got it from. I hadn't seen it since... since the war." Her eyes darted anxiously at Hermione, sitting in the front row. "It's been missing since my sister used it on Ms. Granger in 1998. It wasn't on Bellatrix when she died, of that I am absolutely certain."

She closed her eyes when she had to share what Lucius had done. Even without the benefit of Legilimency, Hermione could sense the abject humiliation radiating from the older witch at having to relive this for an audience. It made her want to rise from her chair and hug Narcissa, to comfort or even protect her...

A bizarre notion, considering the years she'd spent viscerally hating the Malfoy matriarch.

Severus took her hand, sensing her discomfort. His thumb rubbed slow circles on the space between her thumb and forefinger.

Hermione couldn't deny that she felt hatred toward her no longer. What was more, what she did feel could almost be akin to friendship. Narcissa had come to dinner a number of times after Delphini's release from St. Mungo's, and though Hermione wasn't sure quite what to make of her at times, she found her fascinating.

Lucius' testimony was anti-climatic.

Thanks to the number of Obliviation charms he'd been subjected to, he was unable to answer most of the Wizengamot's questions. He had no idea from whence he'd gotten the knife, he had no idea when the Imperius Curse had been placed on him, he had no idea where he'd been held while imprisoned, and he had no idea who had attacked him months ago while down on Knockturn Alley, before he turned up at St. Mungo's with no wand and a head wound, though he suspected it was Park.

Though he did not lie on the witness stand, he did manage to avoid mentioning his own betting habits, Hero's paternity, and the numerous times he'd injured his wife while _not_ under the Imperius Curse. He made it sound as if he had absolutely no idea why Reginald Park would have targeted him or his wife.

This is how he'd made it through two wars, after all. Fessing up only to what was absolutely proven, faking remorse for what he could not deny, expressing his regret at ever having been pulled into such a situation (as if he had no choice) and playing dumb about everything else.

It worked. Once his testimony was complete, he was free to go.

-0-0-0-

Though the trial seemed to be going well, Hermione felt more and more anxious as the day went on.

"When Reginald testifies, what if he tells everything?" she whispered to Severus. "What if he tells everyone about what I did with Malfoy, and about that ad I almost placed in the Prophet, and about...?"

"Let him talk," murmured Severus. "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

"I slept with a man to relieve a debt!"

"You were coerced into it, threatened with losing your children based on a lie. As for your advertisement, aside from Park, only you and I know it existed, so as long as neither of us verifies it..."

"What about the editor and counter clerk at the Prophet?"

Severus smirked. "Didn't I tell you? I paid them a visit months ago. A little memory charm and..." He waved a hand dismissively. "They don't remember a thing."

Hermione placed her hand on his knee and squeezed. "I'm glad it was you who answered my ad, Severus."

"Hm?" He cocked an eyebrow, turning to her as if confused. "What ad? I recall no ad."

Despite the gravity of their situation, and the fact that the children were set to testify next, Hermione couldn't hide a smile.

-0-0-0-

Helena, despite having practiced as much as Delphini had, was terrified on the witness stand.

"I saw him... behind the tree... and one time at... at Hogsmeade... and then... at the... at the funfair... and..." Every couple of words she glanced anxiously at her mother, who was dying inside because she wasn't permitted to go to her. Helena clutched her doll as if for dear life. "And I saw him take Henry. And I saw Delphini grab him. And I saw them disappear..."

They questioned her about what happened in the tunneled room under the old theatre.

"Mummy... was mad. And Professor Snape... was mad too. And Daddy... Daddy was mad three. Daddy hurt Delphini."

"Did you _see_ him hurt Delphini?" asked a witch on the Wizengamot. Helena shook her head.

"No, but he said he did. He said she... he said she deserved it... I don't really know what that means, but Mummy... it made Mummy and Professor angry... They hurted him... Even... even though Mummy says... Mummy says we use our words, not our hands... and using a wand is like using your hands... And then Delphini didn't wake up... and I... and I got scared..." Helena started to cry. Hermione, unable to stand it any longer, rushed down the stone steps to the center dais where the girl sat. She lifted her and hugged her tightly.

"Do you have any further questions, or have you heard enough?" she asked. "She's just a little girl!"

Reginald had the good sense to hang his head at this, feeling genuine remorse for having traumatized his beloved Hellybean.

Delphini took the stand last, the final witness before Park would be expected to get up and defend himself.

They started by asking her to identify her parents.

"My mother's name was Bellatrix Black Lestrange," said Delphini, haughtily tossing her hair just as her mother once had. "She was the Dark Lord's most loyal and faithful and capable and valuable follower, the only one he ever cared about it..." She caught Severus' eye and ducked her head as if chastised. "But she was wrong to follow him. He kidnapped her when she was still a kid, which is why she'd have done anything for him. She didn't know better." Delphini fiddled with her hands, wondering how her mother had felt on a dais just like this, surrounded by wizened witches and wizards, during her trial. She cleared her throat before continuing. "And my father is Severus Snape. He used to be the Headmaster at Hogwarts, before that he was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and the potions master, and he's also a war hero. Even Harry Potter says so. My parents did not love each other but they both love me."

"Thank you," said one of the witches, the one taking notes. "That was... thorough."

Delphini nodded, not understanding that the witch meant she hadn't needed to give more than their names.

Now, the questioning began.

Delphini did her best to answer everything as clearly and concisely as Harry Potter had advised. She talked about the note she'd found under the rock, the man Helena pointed out in the Guy Fawkes mask, and was able to give specific and complete detail about everything that transpired once Park apparated away with Henry and she'd grabbed on.

They thanked her for her testimony and asked if she had anything to add.

"Only one thing... since I have to tell the truth..." She glanced at Narcissa, who'd opted to remain present for each testimony after her own, as Severus and Hermione had (Lucius chose to leave). "I'm sorry about the knife, Auntie."

"What about the knife?" asked Narcissa. A member of the Wizengamot shushed her.

"Two years ago, that man came to Malfoy Manor." She pointed at Reginald. "I didn't recognize him 'till later, but I know it was him who came. You all went into the study, remember? I wanted us to go out to dinner and I was mad I had to wait, since I was already dressed up... I was sitting in the alcove above the hall, waiting for you, when I saw _him_ come out. He started to walk like he was going to the door, but then he stopped and went down to the cellar instead. You know nobody's allowed down there since I was a baby."

(The Dark Lord had kept, tortured, and even killed several prisoners in the cellar dungeon, thus once the war ended, the door was locked and everyone, including the house-elves, were given strict orders to stay out.)

"He went into the cell... there's a space down there with bars and no windows... and he sat on the floor, and he cried. I was hiding so he didn't see me. I... don't be angry, Auntie..."

"I won't be angry," Narcissa said woodenly, but it was clear she was already angry.

"I've been down there before. I've been down there lots of times. I opened it with Alohomora. And I... I had hidden some things down there... things I knew you wouldn't want me to have."

"Like what?" asked Narcissa. The Wizengamot witch shushed her again.

"I found some things... of my mother's... that you didn't give me. One was the knife."

"But where did you find it?" asked Hermione. Now the witch was shushing her.

"I... I might have... kind of... accidentally... stolen... it." Delphini gazed anxiously around at the members of the Wizengamot, afraid they were going to arrest her for this admission, but unable to stop herself from coming clean. "It was at Borgin and Burkes. I recognized it as hers from a picture you gave me of her and me when I was a baby. It was in a little pouch on her hip, so I couldn't see the blade, but... but the handle was there. I'd know that handle anywhere. And her initials were carved in tiny fancy letters on the edge of the blade: _BDBL_. They were selling it in the store. I was in there with you one day, when you were selling... other stuff. You know, the stuff you sold that I wasn't supposed to tell Uncle Lucius about?"

Narcissa's face went as burgundy as her favorite wine. She hadn't intended for anyone to ever know she'd been squirreling away money for years, with the hopes that she'd someday be able to leave her husband, and she'd done so by selling old dark artifacts and heirlooms she'd hoped he wouldn't notice were missing.

"When you were talking to Mr. Borgin, I took the knife. I had to have it but I knew you'd never buy it for me. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to be bad! I just... wanted it. On account of how it was hers. And I rather felt like it was _not_ stealing, since he shouldn't have been selling what wasn't his to begin with! But I hid it in the cellar dungeon so you wouldn't know, and then..." She glared at Reginald Park. "He was down there, kneeling on the floor, crying, and then he must've seen it, because he climbed under the cot and took it, and then he left Malfoy Manor and I couldn't tell you because then I would have to tell you that I stole it and I knew I'd be in big trouble! I'm sorry, Auntie. I'm sorry. If I didn't steal it and hide it there, he never would've found it and you would never have got your throat cut and almost died and it's all my fault!" She was fighting back tears. "I'm so sorry!"

"Oh, Delphini!" Just as Hermione had with Helena, Narcissa ignored the rules and rushed to her niece, taking her in her arms. "I'm not angry. No, that's not true. I _am_ a bit angry. You should not have stolen it and you were not permitted in the cellar. But what happened afterward is _not_ your fault!"

"I guess we're all blaming ourselves for something, eh?" Severus asked Hermione. She nodded, but she was preoccupied. That explained how Reginald had gotten hold of the knife, and obviously he had given it to Lucius... but how had it ended up at Borgin and Burkes?

-0-0-0-

There was a one hour break for lunch before Reginald took the stand. Hermione, Severus, and Narcissa ate with the children, then left them again at the childcare center.

"Delphini's hair looks darling in those braids," Narcissa said as she and Hermione sat in the viewing area with Severus between them. "That must be your doing?"

"I'm trying to teach her to manage it on her own."

"I was never able to."

"Shh," said Severus. "It's starting."

"Don't shush me," Hermione and Narcissa responded in unison. He rolled his eyes.

"Reginald Park." The Wizengamot witch who'd done most of the questioning stood, facing him. He was standing on the center dais, leaning on the rail of the structure around him. "You are accused of..."

"I know what I'm accused of," he cut her off. "And I'm guilty. Of all of it. But let me tell you why..."

-0-0-0-

They went out to dinner that night: Severus, Hermione, Delphini, Helena, Henry, Hero, Narcissa, Siobhan, Draco, Astoria, Scorpius, and Harry.

"I invited Ginny," Harry informed Hermione as they settled themselves around the long table in the small back room of Morgana's. "She wanted to stay home with the children."

"Good," said Hermione. Harry looked surprised. "Nothing against her. But if she'd come we'd be thirteen. When thirteen sit down to dine..."

Harry finished the thought for her. "The first to rise is the first to die!" He laughed. "I thought you didn't put much stock in the crazy things Sybill Trelawney says."

"I don't." Hermione put Hero in a highchair across from Scorpius so they could make faces at each other. "But that seems nicer than saying I'm glad she's not here for other reasons."

"She's coming around," he insisted. Hermione scoffed.

"She's been 'coming around' for years, Harry. She's never going to come around. It's alright, though, really. I don't mind. I have my health, my children, my... boyfriend." She smiled at Severus, who was fussing needlessly over Delphini. He returned the smile. "My friends. My freedom. I can't express to you how relieved I feel right now. I start my new job in two days, I'm in love like never before, and I feel like I'm finally getting my life back."

Severus pulled out her chair and sat beside her. Harry settled on the other side of Hero's high chair, with Helena to his right, across from Delphini, and Henry plopped down on the opposite end beside Severus. The four Malfoys and Siobhan sat on the other side of the table, facing the Granger-Snape family and Harry. They shared a pleasant meal, during which they only touched upon the trial enough to fill in those who hadn't been there without giving too much information to the children, and parted ways after dessert.

-0-0-0-

Hours later, in bed, Hermione slipped her arm around Severus' waist and rested her head on his bare chest. They'd just finished making love and were still basking in the mutual afterglow. He held her close, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her bushy brown hair, never wanting to let her go. Six months ago he couldn't have imagined a life like this, working as a potions master again, on comfortable speaking terms with Narcissa, doing his proper job as a father, and in bed with a brilliant, beautiful woman he loved, while the four children they seemed content to raise together were asleep in their bedrooms down the hall. He wasn't even in any pain, though it had been hours since his last dose of Dragon's Nightshade pain potion.

"I wonder why Reginald didn't tell the Wizengamot about me and Malfoy. I fully expected him to. He seemed as though he was about to, when he said only Henry and Helena were his. But then to have simply said he blamed their family both for the death of his wife and for our divorce on account of the gambling... I think they suspected there was more to the story, but they didn't press it. Why, do you figure?"

"When a man is as guilty as he is, what good can come from offering further information? As for the Wizengamot, it wasn't necessary to know more in order to convict him."

Hermione didn't buy this. "You hit him with something, didn't you?"

"A Confundus Charm," he confessed. "I'm glad no one else seemed to notice."

"As I am." She snuggled closer and smiled when he tightened his hold around her.

"I still have a number of questions, though."

"Like about the knife?" She pushed herself up, staring down at him in the darkness. "Yes! Me too."

"Not about the knife, actually." He coaxed her back down, longing to again feel her bare skin against his. Once she was settled, he began running his hand lightly up and down her back. She threw her leg over his, enjoying this cuddling. They hadn't done enough of it lately, between Delphini's recovery and the stress of the looming trial. "I'm curious about Lucius. When we were in the theatre, Reginald said Lucius paid him to marry you and that he asked you out on a bet. He didn't mention any of that during his trial, and not because I charmed him not to."

"Maybe he was lying in the theatre?"

"No." Severus' brow furrowed. "No, I don't think he was. I don't think Lucius was as innocent in this as he acted. I believe he was under the Imperius Curse and I believe he'd been Obliviated multiple times, but there's more... Why did he want Reginald to date you in the first place? To marry you? Why did he really buy off Reginald's debt? Why did he pretend Narcissa suggested you fuck him to avoid prison? I wish _I_ could have questioned him."

"You could," said Hermione, though in truth she just wanted to put the whole thing behind her and move on. She was too emotionally exhausted to be curious about this. "He's right at Malfoy Manor. You could confront him. But what purpose would it serve? We can't press charges against him for anything without telling the world where Hero came from. So we might as well let it go."

"I suppose," agreed Severus.

But he remained awake, lost in thought, long after his lover drifted off to sleep in his arms.

-0-0-0-

The following day, Hermione's last free day before returning to work at the Ministry, she left Severus and the three youngest children at home, explaining she had an errand to run with Delphini alone.

Before they departed, Hermione again plaited Delphini's hair in two long French braids and helped her choose an outfit – one that was nice, but not _too_ nice.

"I look like I'm five." Delphini scowled at her reflection in the full-length mirror. "Where did you get this corduroy frock? And why does my blouse have a rounded collar? And why these itchy tights?" She lowered her voice, afraid to be overheard. "I look like Helena."

"I know," Hermione whispered back. "That's the idea. We're going to make damn sure you don't get expelled from school."

"By making me look like a little kid?""

"That's part of it, yes." She took the mascara out of Delphini's hand. "No makeup."

Delphini let out an exaggerated sigh. "Are we going to see Professor McGonagall?"

"Nope." Hermione grinned. "I have a different formidable witch in mind."

-0-0-0-

Severus and Helena stared at each other. Henry and Hero were down for their nap, Delphini and Hermione were out on their secret mission, and it suddenly occurred to Severus he'd never actually been left alone with the almost-six-year-old before.

"So..." he said. "You like books?"

"Books? Yes, I like books. Books are great." Helena glanced around the bookshelf-lined walls of the sitting room. "You like books?"

"Yes, quite."

"That's nice."

"Yes, quite nice."

"Very, very nice."

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "Uh, very."

She blinked up at him, looking like a little Hermione. "Mm-hmm."

They stared at each other some more.

Severus was just starting to think it was going to be a _looonng_ afternoon when he had an idea.

"Your mother brought over the telly and VCR." (She'd been bringing over more and more of her possessions lately.) "What do you say we try to hook it up and put in a movie?"

Helena smiled as if relieved. "Yes, please! Do you have any outlets? I know where all the little colored plugs go!"

Fifteen minutes later, they were seated on the couch, a plate of homemade biscuits between them, fully immersed in yet another animated classic: The Sword in the Stone.

-0-0-0-

"Merlin's beard!" exclaimed Delphini, staring up at the oddly assembled home in front of them. They headed up the dirt path toward the door. "Who lives here?"

"This is called the Burrow. My former in-laws live here."

Delphini stopped walking. "Those awful Weasleys? I can't go in there!"

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are very nice," said Hermione. She took the girl by the hand, urging her forward. "And yes, you can."

-0-0-0-

Henry didn't sleep long. He slid down the stairs on his bum and scolded "Pofessah" and his sister for starting a movie without him, but when Severus offered him a biscuit and a place on the couch rather than sending him back to bed, all was forgiven.

"This a good movie," said Henry, his mouth full of chocolate cookie. "I seen it alweady. That boy gets a sord out a stone!"

"Henry!" Helena cried in a scolding tone. "Now you've ruined the ending for Professor Snape!"

"Oh." Henry's face fell. "Sowwy!"

Severus chuckled, assured him he didn't mind, and turned their attention back to the screen.

He could only imagine what his mother, Eileen Prince Snape, would've thought to see him this way, playing the roles of loving husband and caring father.

Would she be proud of him? He'd broken the cycle of domestic abuse. That had to count for something, right?

And he had a good job, and he'd kept the home up well, and he was an accomplished wizard.

He glanced at the bookshelf where a photograph of his mother as a young woman was once on display. Perhaps he should put it back up?

For the first time in a long time, he missed her.

-0-0-0-

Arthur Weasley was at work, as usual, but Molly had started the kettle for tea and set out scones with jam and clotted cream, looking forward to catching up with her former daughter-in-law, whom she missed greatly. Molly expected things to perhaps be a bit awkward between them, as she knew she and Ron had a couple of recent awkward encounters.

What she hadn't expected was for Hermione to bring Delphini.

"Oh! Hello!" Molly stood in the doorway looking surprised and conflicted. The girl was small and rather cute, despite her resemblance to Bellatrix, and she was leaning on a cane, a reminder of the recent torture she'd endured (naturally, news about the trial had been in the paper that morning) which made Molly want to embrace and coddle her. But on the other hand, this was the girl who had so coldly attacked her eldest granddaughter, sending an Unforgivable at her back. Thus, Molly hesitated.

"Could we come in?" asked Hermione, hoping this hadn't been a mistake.

"Yes, yes of course!" said Molly, stepping aside, letting her need to be nurture win out over her desire to defend her granddaughter, at least for the moment.

"Molly Weasley, this is Delphini Black, Severus' daughter. You know, of course, that I've been seeing Severus for the last six months or so?"

"I... yes. Yes, I'd heard... something to that effect. Come in, come in. The kitchen is this way, dear." She led Delphini carefully to her favorite room of the house.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Delphini said quietly. She sat at the table when prompted to do so, crossing her ankles and folding her hands delicately as she'd been taught, though her posture wasn't as straight as it had once been, thanks to her weeks of being mostly bedridden.

Once tea had been served, Molly sat across from them, curiosity and concern evident across her plump face.

"Hermione, what is it you wanted to talk about?"

"In two weeks, the Hogwarts Board of Governors will be meeting with staff to determine whether Delphini can return in school in January. Bill is heading up the movement on behalf of those who think she should be expelled. I want you to change his mind."

"Hermione, dear, I'm sure she's a lovely girl, but..."

"You killed my mother," Delphini said quietly, as this reality hit her quite suddenly. "The day I cursed Victoire, her and her friends were teasing me. They were teasing me about how you killed my mother. We were in the Great Hall, where it happened, and they were all laughing and calling me Delphini You-Know-Who, because they thought the Dark Lord was my father. I said they were lucky my mother wasn't there to hear them teasing me. Victoire said it wasn't luck she wasn't there, it was because of ability, because you were a better witch than she was, and so you dueled her and she lost. She called my mum a murderous monster and said she should've been kissed by a Dementor and sent to rot in Azkaban." Delphini wiped an escaped tear away with her sleeve. "She said before you did it, my mum tried to kill your Ginny, so you stepped in and said, 'Not my daughter, you bitch,' and then you... you just... you just killed her. My mother. You just _killed_ her. Victoire said..." More tears were making their way down her cheeks now. She brushed them again with her fingertips. "She said _you_ loved your daughter enough to _kill_ for her, but _mine_ didn't even love _me_ enough not to leave me home alone while she went to fight. Victoire said my mum didn't care about leaving me to be an... an orphan. And I was hurt because I thought she was right."

Hermione felt awful. This was not at all how she's anticipated this going. She silently chided herself for having been stupid enough to think introducing the girl to Mrs. Weasley would do any good.

"I didn't know," said Molly, softening, even though she would absolutely have done it again in the same situation. "During the Final Battle, I didn't know Bellatrix had a baby. I didn't know about you."

Delphini sniffled, swallowing back her tears. Hermione reached out and took her hand.

"Then Victoire's friends read in my letter... they read that Professor Snape is my father, not the Dark Lord... and they laughed about that too. They said my mother must have _paid_ him to be with her, because she was... because she was so... so _ugly..."_ Her voice broke on that last word. "Victoire called her skinny and dirty and mad. Matilda Wood called her a _slag._ Everyone was listening. Everyone! They were all around us in a circle and they were laughing... they were _all_ laughing... and all I could think was that it wasn't fair. They all have their mothers. They all grew up knowing their fathers. None of them had to get raised by their auntie and uncle. None of them had an auntie in the hospital because their uncle tried to kill her. None of them have to eat lunch in... in... in the room where their mummy was murdered!"

Delphini could no longer hold off her sobs. Messy, ugly, semi-hysterical tears streamed freely down her pale face. She cried so hard she hiccupped, gasped, and coughed.

"I'm so sorry, Molly," said Hermione. "This isn't why I brought her here! I wanted to talk about..."

Molly shook her head at Hermione, moved to sit beside Delphini and, to Hermione's surprise, pulled the girl into a tight hug. A motherly hug. She shushed the girl soothingly, cradling her to her bosom, and rocked slightly back and forth, stroking the girl's braided hair, and she let her cry.

"I think, perhaps, Victoire needs a reminder about how privileged she'd been," said Molly quietly over Delphini's head to Hermione. "When she wrote Arthur and me about what happened, she failed to mention any of this."

Hermione nodded trying not to smile. That seemed like a good first step!

Once Delphini had sufficiently calmed, Molly offered her a handkerchief to wipe her face and topped off her tea.

"I know it doesn't justify having used an Unforgivable Curse," said Hermione, reaching for the jam. "But I wanted you to meet Delphini, to see that she's not... she's not... She's a good girl who made a mistake. And she's learned from it. It won't happen again. Especially now that she knows how it feels to be cursed like that. Three times. By a grown wizard."

"I want to go back to school," said Delphini. She lifted her mug but did not drink from it. "My father has been tutoring me. He says I'm smart."

"She _is_ smart!" said Hermione. "All of her professors say her grades were excellent, she can already do some wandless magic, and she was able to produce Fiendfyre without speaking the incantation, which she learned because she saw her mother doing it when she was barely a year old! I don't know if you're aware, but Bellatrix was abducted from school at _fourteen_ to serve Lord Voldemort. He taught her everything from that age on."

Molly flinched upon hearing his name.

"We don't want Delphini to have to leave school early too. We'll do anything to keep her from getting expelled. I've tried to talk to Bill. Severus and Minerva have tried to talk to Bill. Even Harry tried to talk to Bill. But he won't listen. And I understand why, Molly, I truly do. You know as well as I what parents will go through to defend their children, to protect them. But do you really feel that for this one mistake, Delphini deserves to lose out on her entire magical education, effectively ruining her life? She was being bullied and she reacted badly, but...

"But who wouldn't react badly to being teased about a loved one's death?" asked Molly sympathetically. Her own face was damp with tears, too. "I didn't only kill Bellatrix Lestrange to protect Ginny. I did it because she was... she was talking about Fred. I couldn't stand her talking about Fred. Laughing about his death. Taunting me over the possibility of losing another child. I thought, if I didn't stop her, I would lose Ginny just as I'd just lost Fred, and..." Molly took Delphini's face gently in her hands. They made eye contact for a long moment before she spoke again. "Your mother was confident to the point of arrogance. I'm certain she _never_ would've left you if she'd even _considered_ the possibility she wouldn't be coming back. I'm _not_ sorry to have saved my daughter... but I _am_ sorry to have taken from you your mother."

"If you hadn't, she would've gone back to Azkaban, like Victoire said." Delphini wiped her runny nose on her sleeve. Hermione prompted her to use the handkerchief instead. "I talked about it with my aunt when I was in the hospital. Auntie Cissy says my mother is probably better off, being dead, even though it makes us sad. What do you think? I told Auntie, I can't imagine my mother would've wanted to rot in prison."

"No," said Molly sympathetically. She kissed Delphini on the forehead, same as she'd done her own children and grandchildren countless times. "No, dear. I can't imagine anyone would."

"So you'll talk to Bill, then?" asked Hermione. "Please?"

Molly nodded slowly, glancing from Hermione to Delphini and back again. "Yes. Yes, this Sunday, when he comes for dinner, I'll talk to him. Now..." Molly straightened up, wiped away her tears, and reached for the plate of scones. "I made plenty of these, so don't be shy!"

-0-0-0-

After the children were asleep that night, Hermione laid out her outfit for her first day of work, readied Hero's diaper bag, as she'd be bringing the baby to the childcare center, and wrote a list of reminders for Severus regarding Henry and Helena, who both wanted to stay home with him and Delphini.

("I hate Snakes and Ladders!" Henry had said when asked if he wanted to return to the Ministry. "I want my Pofessah!")

"Delphini will return to her academic schedule tomorrow. She's missed so much and I want her to catch up before January... assuming Molly gets through to Bill. During one of her free periods I'm going to pay her to watch the children so I can continue brewing that potion the Ministry requested and get started on the one commissioned by St. Mungo's, which I can probably do during Henry's nap. I'm going to start the younger two on some sort of academic plan too, as they're also falling behind. As for your list, I see you put a limit on television time and a 'no sweet or snacks save for fruit' on there and I can tell you right now, I'm not going to adhere to either of those things."

Hermione crawled onto the bed, facing Severus, who was sitting up with his back against the headboard.

"You are ruining my children, Severus Snape."

"Not all of them," he argued. "One will be at the Ministry, with you. I'm only planning to ruin the other two. Know what? Forget academics. I've changed my mind. I'm going to let all of them rot their brains with television and rot their teeth with candy and there's nothing you can do about it because you'll be at work." He shot her a devilish, self-appreciating grin.

She settled in his lap and took his hands, placing them on her hips, and shook her head. "Severus Tobias Snape... Why do I tolerate you?"

"According to Bellatrix's diary, I'm reasonably well-endowed," he answered without missing a beat. "Perhaps that's why."

"Or perhaps she'd simply been in prison so long she couldn't remember what well-endowed looked like. I mean, prior to Azkaban her primary lover had been You-Know-Who, right? If we are to assume that the size of a man's nose corresponds to the size of his..." She thrust once against him. "We can also thereby assume she hadn't had much to compare you to, the poor witch."

"If the size of a man's nose corresponds to the size of his..." His hands still on her hips, he jerked her body in a second thrusting motion. "I think we can agree I'm boasting more than my fair share." His hands made their way from her hips to the front of her blouse; his fingers moved quickly, unbuttoning each button. "Don't you agree?"

Hermione giggled, leaned forward, and whispered, "I love you, my big-nosed bat."

He removed her shirt and tossed it to the floor, then drew his hands up to do the same with her bra.

"I love you too, my insufferable know-it-all."

* * *

 **A/N:**

I tried to wait until Wednesday to put this out there but I have the patience of an overtired toddler. Basically I've thrown out my whole posting schedule.

Anyway, after this there's one more chapter (Christmas), then the epilogue, and finally, a little 'tag'! (And review responses.)

For anyone wondering, the tag is like that last quick scene in a tv show, where the characters come back for one final joke or poignant moment.

In this case, the 'tag' is actually the epilogue I wrote originally, before I wrote Chapter 2 (I like to figure out the ending right after the beginning) but later I came up with an epilogue I liked better, so this is my way of sharing both.

Thanks again for reading and reviewing, following and adding to faves!

Much love!

 **-AL**


	54. Goodnight, Sweet Prince

**CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR**

 **Goodnight, Sweet Prince.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

Hermione placed her hand on the center of Severus' chest and threw back her head, her hips bucking, her eyes half-closed from the sheer pleasure of it.

"Fuck... yes... keep going... harder..." he groaned, spurring her on with his hands on her hips.

It was Christmas Eve, they were in bed – his bed, though it had more than once of late been referred to as _their_ bed – and they were engaging a multi-positional marathon lovemaking session, which just happened to include arguably the best sex either of them had had in... maybe ever.

He was completely reclined, she was riding him, and they were both eternally thankful for whoever had invented the silencing charm they'd placed around the room after putting the kids to bed. She leaned back, repositioning so her palms were on top of his thighs. She cried out when one of his hands moved to stimulate her.

"There, oh, yes, Severus, yes, there..."

She was on the precipice when he abruptly stopped, issuing a request. He took her hand and placed where his had been.

"Let me watch?"

She nodded, unable to form a coherent thought. It only took about a minute of pleasuring herself while gyrating her hips over his before she hit her peak.

"I love you," she cried out as the orgasm washed over her in overwhelming waves. "Severus, Severus I love you."

"I love you," he growled, grabbing her and pulling her down so they were flush against each other. They kissed over and over as she rode out the rest of her release, after which he flipped them so she was the one on her back, and he began thrusting, slowly, deliberately, pulling out almost all the way then plunging in again, making her gasp with each motion. He hooked his thumb under the back of her left knee, folding her leg, and pushed his own body up so he was looking down at her. One of her hands went to her breast, toying with the nipple, as she smiled up at him, and the very sight of it nearly brought him over the edge, actually forcing him to close his eyes momentarily, as he wasn't ready to be finished.

She pulled him back down, wanting to feel his skin against hers, and kissed his shoulder. He opened his eyes for a second, then buried his face into her neck, inhaling deeply, lost in the mixing scents of her shampoo and his soap and their sex. He sucked lightly on the skin there, careful not to leave a mark, as they were having guests for Christmas and he didn't feel she would want to spend the day keeping up a Glamour to hide the evidence of their intimacy from their friends (not that he'd mind showing it off...).

"Do you still want me to move in with you?" she whispered. It was an odd question, considering she'd spent every night for the past three weeks in his home, in his bed, in his arms, with her children asleep down the hall.

He answered quickly.

"Yes. Yes, Hermione, I want that."

"I want that too," she admitted. "I want to live with you. I want to share my life with you, to spend my life with you. I want to raise my children with you. And yours. Mine and yours, together."

He kissed her on the lips, the corner of her mouth, the cheek, the temple. "Yes," he murmured between each kiss. "Yes, I want that. I want you. I want us to be a family."

"If I die I'll come back as a ghost and haunt you whenever you try to be with another woman," she said teasingly, tilting her pelvis to take him at a slightly different angle. She tightened her walls around his cock and he groaned, beads of sweat forming at his temples, as he fought the urge to come.

"If you die, I'll die too so we can have terrible ghost sex for all of eternity. It'll be... dead sexy," he quipped back, making her laugh.

"That's the worst pun I've ever heard. The ending of Hamlet is funnier than that joke."

Now it was his turn to laugh, after which he kissed her yet again, a long, drawn-out, sensual kiss, in an attempt to convey everything he'd grown to feel for her since she started working for him over six months ago. She kissed him back with equal fervor, then, upon the parting of their lips, resumed panting under him, running her fingertips over the skin of his arms and back and shoulders, as he increased his speed. She slipped her hand up to his cheek, under his hair, and they made eye contact. His gaze was intense; her eyes were watery.

"I've never been so in love," she breathed, her lips but a whisper from his. "Thank you for answering my ad."

"I never could've imagined it would turn out this way," he murmured. His nose brushed against hers as they thrust in rhythm. "Thank you for saving me from that snake."

She couldn't resist digging her short nails into the backs of his shoulders as he pumped harder and faster and more erratically toward his own eventual release. Her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him close, while his hands held so tightly to her outer thighs she briefly wondered whether there would be visible bruises in the morning, not that she minded. He kissed her – hard – as she climaxed for a second blissful time, which brought on his own intense eruption.

Afterward she lay contentedly in his arms. Both were sticky from sweat, heady, satiated, and exhausted.

"We should shower," she said after several silent minutes passed during which they each tried to regain control of their breathing. "We should shower and dress. In a few hours, it'll be Christmas morning, and if I know my children they'll be in here to wake us up at approximately thirty seconds past dawn, wanting to open their presents."

He nodded, still too tired to speak, but he forced himself from his bed – _their bed_ – to retrieve his pajama pants from the floor, where she'd tossed them a couple of hours earlier while taking him in her mouth. She put on his robe and they made their way quietly down the hall to the bathroom, careful to avoid waking the children. After a shower, during which they messed around a bit but did not have sex again, they toweled off and returned to the bedroom, where she pulled on a pair of embarrassingly loud pajamas, featuring little gnome-like creatures in red and green suits and pointy hands and curled-toe shoes, some of whom were holding presents.

"Those are ghastly."

She grinned. "Thank you. Muggles call these creatures Christmas elves. I considered buying you a matching pair."

"The best Christmas present you could've given me is not buying me a matching pair," he said dryly.

She giggled and crawled back into bed, snuggling up to him. "In that case, I got you the best Christmas present!"

He waved his wand to put out the lights. She sighed contentedly. It had been a lovely Christmas Eve. She was nearly asleep when Severus spoke again.

"Do you really want to live with me?"

He hoped she hadn't merely expressed that in the moment only to take it back once her head had cleared. To his relief, she nodded.

"It makes sense, doesn't it? We're happy together, aren't we? We're committed. We love each other. So why am I paying for a flat I don't live in? I only have the place rented until January fifteenth. That gives us almost three weeks to adjust to the idea of cohabitation."

"I'm already adjusted."

"We'll have to tell the children."

"I'm certain they'll be thrilled. Delphini has gotten used to sharing her room." Helena now had a bed on the opposite side of the room from Delphini's, plus her own little desk and a shelf for her books and toys, which meant Henry now had a bed to himself in the room he shared with baby Hero. He delighted in kicking his older sister out whenever she came in to lecture him about the mess, though Severus had threatened to put him in Time Away if he said "Get out my fuckin' woom!" one more time. (Getting scolded by Severus seemed to have a much more profound effect on the boy than getting told off by his mother or sister did. Henry had immediately apologized and rephrased it to, 'Get out my woom, pwease!" instead).

"Could I give you one of your Christmas presents now?" Hermione asked, propped up on her elbows, looking at him with a twinge of anxiousness. "I'd like to do it without the children around."

"Of course," he answered. "Unless it's sex, in which case, I'm appreciative but unfortunately completely spent. We old men need more recovery time between shag sessions than you young women do."

She snorted. "It's not sex. Here..." She used her wand to Accio over a delicately wrapped package from inside the drawer of his writing desk, flicked her wand, and said, "Lumos."

He looked down at the rectangle in his hands. "A book?"

"Not a book," she answered. "Honestly, I don't know how you'll feel about it..."

He gingerly unwrapped it from the shimmery gold paper, slipping off the ribbon and setting aside the bow. Inside was a black and white moving photograph in a silver frame.

"It's my mother," he whispered. He touched the glass gently. In the picture, his mother was balancing him on her hip, a rarely seen smile on her face. She tickled his belly and he giggled. He appeared to be perhaps two. His hair was long, almost to his shoulders, and his nose, which wasn't yet long or hooked, crinkled when he laughed. He couldn't recall ever seeing this one before.

"I found it when I was cleaning out your old bedroom. It was in a box. Most of the other photographs were too damaged to be recognizable, but I knew that was you right away, and I recognized her from a picture I found at Hogwarts when I was a Sixth year. She looks like she loved you very much."

"Yes," he said quietly, unable to take his eyes off this image of his mother, looking happy, carefree, unbruised... he couldn't recall ever seeing her that way. Certainly never when in the presence of his father, in any case. "And look how I'm smiling at her."

"You said you've missed her recently," said Hermione softly. "I thought you might like to have..."

"Thank you." He pressed his lips to hers, not a sensuous kiss, but one that conveyed his love and gratitude all the same. "You will either laugh or cry when you see what I got for you. Perhaps both."

Now it was his turn to summon over a wrapped package, though his was in plain brown paper, no ribbons, no bows (and held together with a lot of Muggle tape).

She opened it as he had his and gasped, nearly dropping it on the bed.

It, too, was a photograph. In color. Not moving.

It was a photograph of Hermione, age nine, between her parents on holiday, in their summer clothes, with the ocean behind them.

"How did you do this?" It was the one picture she'd kept of her parents when she went to their home after the war. The house had been trashed, presumably by Death Eaters looking for the Grangers, but this picture had fallen between a chair and the wall. She wasn't in it and had no idea how to put herself back in it; she'd disappeared from all pictures when she erased herself from their memories. She'd therefore kept the picture, but left it, as his had been, in a box.

"It was Helena's idea. She brought it over. She wanted to know why you had a picture of the people from the ice cream shop. I realized these must be Monica and Wendell Wilkins. It took a good bit of help from Fillius, but we were able to restore it to the original image. You said you missed them and while I do not think I am more capable than St. Mungo's best Healers at bringing them back and restoring their memories, I wanted you to have..."

"Thank you!" She kissed him soundly as some of her tears wet his cheek. "This is the best present... We had the same idea... You are the most thoughtful... I can't imagine a better... I can't think to finish a sentence!"

"Are these sad tears or happy tears?" He wrapped her in a hug. She tried to giggle but it turned into a hiccup, which turned into a snort, and then into a cough.

"These are happy tears!" she managed to squeak out finally.

"You women," he chided cheekily. "You'll cry over anything."

But his eyes were misting too.

-0-0-0-

The Granger-Snape family spent Christmas morning as many happy families do: crowded around a Christmas tree, exchanging gifts, eating special treats, and enjoying each other's company.

Hero needed help opening her presents and was much more entertained by the boxes and wrapping paper than by anything hidden inside. She sat herself inside a box that had contained a new outfit and stuck a bow in her mouth, which Hermione traded her for a Ginger Newt.

"I got a movie!" shouted Henry. He held up the VHS tape to show everyone. "Look, Pofessah! Is a movie foh the telly! We can wash it?"

"We can watch it later," said Hermione.

"We can wash it _now_?" he asked, pouting at Severus, hoping for a better answer.

Severus, smiling, shook his head.

"Your mother said we can watch it later, Henry, so later it shall be. What's it called? Can you read the name?" Severus had spent a portion of the last ten days teaching both Henry and Hero their letters and both were picking up the alphabet well, putting the girl considerably ahead of her same-age peers, while Henry was still unfortunately a bit behind.

"Is a T!" Henry shouted, pointing at the first letter of the first word. "And a O and a Y!"

"The first word is Toy and the second is Story," said Severus. "Toy Story."

"It's a movie about toys that come to life," said Hermione. "Like when Professor charms your snake and cars to make them move!"

Henry hugged the video cassette to his chest, even more excited now that he knew what it was about.

"Look what Father Christmas brought," exclaimed Helena. "He's so smart. How'd he know I wanted new books? Look! A Little Princess and a new Tales of Beedle the Bard with no chewed up pages and James and the 'Gan-it' Peach."

" _Giant_ peach," Hermione and Severus corrected in unison. "Good reading, Helena," Hermione added.

"Thank you Father Christmas," Helena said, hugging the books to her chest as her brother had done with the movie.

"That Father Christmas," said Severus, glancing at Hermione. "He knows everything. Bloody brilliant, isn't he? It's like he's magic. A Legilimens, do you reckon? Handsome, too."

Hermione snickered and swatted playfully at him. "That's odd because _I_ heard he's a grouchy old man with a big nose and a beautiful young girlfriend who does all the work."

"Don't be silly, Mummy," said Helena, carefully placing her books in her present pile. "He isn't grouchy, he's jolly! And he doesn't have a girlfriend; he's married to Mrs. Claus."

(Severus and Hermione exchanged a knowing smile.)

"What's this?" asked Delphini, holding up a long black Hogwarts robe with a blue and bronze crest featuring an eagle on the left side.

"You can exchange it if you'd like," said Hermione carefully. "But I've been corresponding with Professor McGonagall and she said, if you want to, you could be moved in Ravenclaw. She had a chat with the Sorting Hat about you, and it seems Ravenclaw was the spot it was set to put you in initially, but you begged for Slytherin..."

"And since the Hat takes students' preferences into account," Severus continued the thought, "It makes sense that, if you wished to try it on again without begging for Slytherin, it would place you in Ravenclaw, where you might be better suited."

"Don't decide yet," said Hermione. "But it's something to thi–"

"Yes!" Delphini cut her off. "I want to try the Hat on again. I want to see if I can be moved. I... I don't want to room with Charlotte and Piper anymore."

Two days earlier, one week before the hearing concerning her was set to take place, the Daily Prophet had interviewed several students who'd just exited the Hogwarts Express on their way home for the holiday, asking them what they thought about Delphini Black's imminent return.

Charlotte had said she didn't think Delphini should ever be allowed back because "Clearly, she can't be trusted," while Piper had been quoted as adding, "I knew there was something not right about her from the start." Both girls' parents had signed the petition to get her expelled, though Severus knew it was because she was not the daughter of the Dark Lord as presumed, but because she was his, and he was a traitor. He didn't want those girls anywhere near his daughter any more than Graham Montague wanted Charlotte near her.

Bill Weasley, there to retrieve Victoire, had declined to comment at all, which Hermione thought was promising, though Severus said he wasn't going to go getting his hopes up. Molly had written that she'd talked to her son and was confident he would "do the right thing in the end." She also said she'd be happy to have Hermione and Delphini back for tea again any time.

On Christmas morning the Granger-Snape family ate a small breakfast, as a large early supper was planned in the afternoon, during which they were having several guests. This caused Severus a considerable amount of unease, as he'd never entertained a number of guests or thrown any sort of party or large dinner at his home before, but he tried to force himself to feel as confident that it would go well as Hermione clearly did.

"Relax," she whispered in his ear as they cleaned up the sitting room, letting the children play with their new gifts rather than help. "Having company won't be so bad. You might even like it!"

-0-0-0-

About a half hour before dinner was set to begin, guests began to show.

First, Narcissa Malfoy, dressed as if she were attending a soiree with society's upper crust, arrived with Draco, who donned more casual attire, and little Scorpius, who wore a red and green jumper with an ornament stitched on the front. It reminded Hermione of Harry's first Weasley sweater, the one with the snitch instead of a letter. Her children were all boasting similar jumpers in various colors, Delphini included.

"Astoria stayed with her parents," Draco explained, setting his son down. "She was exhausted after this morning..."

Scorpius toddled off toward Hero, who greeted him with a happy squeal and a hug.

"What about Siobhan?" Hermione asked Narcissa, who was putting out her cigarette before stepping inside. She handed Hermione a bottle of expensive wine they'd brought to share.

"Siobhan will be along. I told her where to apparate to and which house it is. She spent the morning with her sisters and parents – apparently she's not ready for me to meet them on account of her father and I being the same age." Narcissa shrugged. Draco sent her a look that clearly conveyed his discomfort with this. Hermione looked at him questioningly.

"Siobhan is thirty-two," he explained once his mother had removed her traveling cloak and gone into the kitchen to greet Severus. "I'm twenty-eight. It's as bad as her dating Krum."

"Careful," said Hermione, Vanishing his coat and the cloak to Henry's bedroom upstairs, where they'd be keeping everything guests needed stored. "I'm twenty-nine, don't forget, and Severus is forty-..."

"That's entirely different," Draco interrupted. "Severus isn't my mother."

Fifteen minutes before dinner was to be served, their other guests arrived at once: Minerva McGonagall, Siobhan Carrigan, Luna Lovegood, Rolf Scamander, and a dark-skinned, bright-eyed twelve-year-old girl with thick glasses and box braids.

"Thank you so much for including my niece in your invitation," said Rolf, introducing Annika Scamander. "My brother and his wife are staying in Greece to help my father and grandfather and she didn't want to spend the holiday at Hogwarts."

"Annika hasn't been making friends," said Luna mater-of-factly. "Other Ravenclaws hide her shoes as they used to do mine. It's interesting, isn't it?"

"Er, sure," said Hermione. She greeted the girl, who didn't seem at all ill at ease given Luna's comment. She invited her into the sitting room along with the others, to enjoy drinks until dinner was ready.

The kitchen had earlier been magically expanded into a dining room large enough to seat eight adults, two tweens, two young children, and two toddlers in high chairs. Severus bustled about it, ensuring all was ready, putting the finishing touches on the food, and generally making Hermione anxious as his nervous energy rubbed off on her. Hermione, though she was happy to have mostly left her domestic life behind with her return to working in Magical Law Enforcement, actually enjoyed playing hostess during the meal (Molly Weasley would have been proud). She was pleased to see Minerva and Narcissa, former enemies-turned-colleagues, chatting pleasantly as Severus reconnected with his godson Draco. She questioned Luna and Rolf about Greece while the babies made faces and giggled at each other, and the two First Year girls seemed to be hitting it off. Even Henry behaved himself, by some miracle, and Siobhan was kind enough to answer a number of precocious Helena's questions about the field of magical medicine.

They took dessert and coffee in the sitting room in chairs situated in a semi-circle opposite the fireplace. Delphini invited Annika up to see her room and the two disappeared. Helena tried to follow, but Hermione asked her to stay downstairs with Henry and the little ones, figuring it might be nice to let the older girls have space (with the hope that they'd become friends before returning to school in a month... assuming Delphini could return). Helena was disappointed, but obediently settled herself on the floor and opened one of her new books. Henry knelt beside her, playing quietly with his new toy model of the Hogwarts Express, a gift from Minerva.

Narcissa held Scorpius in her lap and Siobhan, sitting beside her, held Hero.

"Baby," said Hero, tapping Scorpius on the nose.

"No," he said. He poked Hero's belly. "Baby!"

Both babies giggled.

"Awww," cooed Siobhan, bouncing Hero on her knee. "Doesn't this just make you want to run out and have a baby?"

"No!" Narcissa exclaimed. She pointed across the semi-circle at Draco. "That one nearly killed me in childbirth. And the other one kept me up all night every night for a year after her mother died. Plus potty-training took forever with Draco because he got a thrill from peeing on things and Delphini threw massive temper tantrums until she was six."

"Mother!" Draco went slightly pink. "You can't go around telling people I liked to... you know."

"Well you did," she said. "You spent six months naked from the waist down. I couldn't take you anywhere. You once peed in that fountain in the Ministry in front of the Minister himself. I'd never been so bloody embarrassed in all my life."

Hermione, Luna, and Siobhan snickered into their mugs, and even Minerva hid a smirk behind her napkin. Draco's face went even redder. Both Severus and Rolf nodded knowingly, though. They knew as well as toddler Draco had that one of the best parts of being male was the ability to 'go' anywhere.

"That's the lovely thing about being a grandmother," Narcissa continued. "You can hold a baby whenever you want to, and then, when it fusses or needs to be changed or learns to talk back, you can return it to its parents and go along your merry way."

"But they're so sweet when they're small, and they smell good too." Siobhan sniffed Hero's hair and smiled at Hermione. "Do you think you'll have more children?"

"Not any time soon!" said Hermione, much to Severus' relief (he was at once glad she didn't say yes and glad she didn't say no). "We've got our hands full with four, and Hero's still in diapers... though I don't think we have to worry about her peeing in a fountain in front of the Minister for Magic."

"I can't take _you_ anywhere, Mother!" said Draco exasperatedly.

Narcissa rolled her eyes.

Rolf was just starting to tell the group that he and Luna had already chosen baby names for all of their future children when a sharp knock on the door surprised them all. Severus rose to answer it, Henry, his shadow, on his heels.

"Lucius Malfoy," Severus said upon opening the door. He stepped outside, not completely closing it. "What brings you here?"

"What bwings you he-ah?" echoed Henry, using his tough-guy tone, hands on his hips, glaring up at the man. "Lucy-us Mah-foy."

"Henry, please go back in the sitting room. I shall return in a moment."

Henry, though he hated being sent away, did as told.

"Narcissa is here?" asked Lucius. He ran his fingers through his hair. He looked considerably better than he had when they last saw each other, at the trial ten days ago. "She moved out of Malfoy Manor the day before yesterday. I went to Hogwarts because I have something to give her, but Professor Flitwick said she and Minerva had plans for Christmas dinner. I came to the conclusion they much be here, as I could think of no other place the two would go together on Christmas."

"I'm quite certain she has no desire to see you," said Severus. He shut the door the rest of the way, his back to it. "But since you're here, I want the truth."

Lucius jutted his chin up, regarding Severus as if he were interacting with a peasant child in a Dickens novel. "About?"

"Hermione. You bet Reginald he couldn't date her, you practically paid him to marry her, you bought out his debt so you could blackmail her, and you lied to him about Narcissa coming up with the plan for you to sleep with her. What was your end game?"

"Produce my wife and I will be content to answer your questions, in full detail at a later date - after the new year - and in a location of your choosing, provided we are in agreement that you'll not attack me during the course of the conversation. Deal?"

"How I can trust if I bring Narcissa out here, you'll hold up you end of the bargain?"

"Because I am a man of my word, Severus." Lucius smiled. A silky, snake-like smile. "Shall we shake on it?"

After a moment's hesitation, Severus put out his hand.

"But if you hurt Narcissa, or even attempt to, I will hurt you twice as badly and the deal is off," said Severus, not immediately releasing the older man's hand.

"Trust me," hissed Lucius. "Narcissa wants what I intend to give her."

Severus opened the door to retrieve Narcissa from the sitting room, but to his surprise she was standing in the hall.

"I knew he was here," she explained. "I knew even before Henry told me. I could sense it." She smiled halfheartedly at her husband. "You have an open mind, Lucius. You always have. It's a damn good thing you were truly devoted to the Dark Lord. Had you any doubts, he would have sensed them without even trying to, and you would've been dead." She stepped out onto the top step, beside Severus, and shut the door while pulling out a cigarette simply because she knew how much he hated the smoke. "You have something for me?"

He nodded, his arrogant demeanor dissipated. He reached into the pocket of his ornate, tailored wizard's robe and pulled out a rolled parchment. He unfurled it and faced it toward her.

"I have not been kind to you. I understand, therefore, why you've chosen to leave me, and I've decided I don't think you ought to die for it. That is why, this morning, I divorced you."

"What?" Even with her ability to peruse his mind so effortlessly, she hadn't expected this. She dropped her unlit cigarette. "You divorced me?"

"It's official as of the first of January, as you have one week in which to appeal. New Ministry regulations." He had gone from looking pompous moments before to looking positively miserable. If Severus didn't know what a deplorable bastard the man was, he might almost feel sorry for him. "You deserve better, Narcissa."

She took the divorce decree from him carefully, as if it were printed on glass, and hugged it to her chest. "This is the most selfless gift you've ever given me, Lucius."

"I know."

Lucius and Narcissa made eye contact for a long moment, neither quite sure exactly how to feel. Severus shuffled uncomfortably, wishing he wasn't witnessing this moment.

"I loved you for a long time, Lucius," whispered Narcissa. She kissed him platonically on the cheek. "Thank you for this."

He nodded with clear reluctance and remorse, but also with resignation.

"Yes, well," he said with a shrug. "Happy Christmas."

He took three steps and, despite being in broad daylight on a Muggle street, disapparated.

-0-0-0-

After dessert was cleaned up and the coffee was gone, Minerva thanked them for the lovely Christmas dinner but said she had to be getting back to the castle, as they had a dozen students who'd stayed over the holiday and she wanted to see them during their dinner time. Draco and Scorpius departed shortly thereafter, to rejoin Astoria at her parents' home, and then Narcissa said she, too, would have to be going. She wanted to show Siobhan where she'd be living now that she had transitioned from trophy wife to Defense professor.

Luna and Rolf stayed another hour and a half, partly because they were enjoying the time with Hermione and Severus, and partly because they hated to separate the girls.

"Annika has been terribly lonely at school," Rolf lamented, shaking his head. "There are two other Ravenclaw girls in her year and they paired off straight away, leaving her out."

"Same happened to Delphini," said Severus. "Four Slytherin girls, two instant sets of best friends, and one lonely girl on the outs."

"But if Delphini ends up moved to Ravenclaw, they'll be roommates," said Hermione. "Friends too, I hope."

"It's good to have something to hope for in the new year," said Luna dreamily. "Don't you think?"

"There's a lot to hope for in the new year," Hermione agreed. "I'm looking forward to it."

-0-0-0-

Upstairs, Delphini and Annika were sitting side by side on her bedroom floor, their backs against the bed, perusing the book about amazing witches of modern times that Severus had given his daughter before she left for school.

"That's Isla Black," said Delphini, pointing to a drawing of a nine-year-old witch and her silvery Patronus. "I'm related to her through my mother's father's side."

"Wow," breathed Annika. "I don't think any of my ancestors are in any books. My great-grandfather wrote one, though. It's called Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Have you heard of it?"

"Heard of it?!" Delphini leapt to her feet and hurried over to her floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. "I've read it straight through twice already!"

-0-0-0-

Five days after Christmas, the Hogwarts Board of Governors and staff (minus Professor Cuthbert Binns) met in one of the school's largest classrooms to discuss the possible expulsion of Delphini D. Black.

"Snape," Minerva corrected Bill Weasley, who was tasked with informing everyone for the reason for the meeting (as if they didn't know). "As of yesterday, the child's legal name is Delphini Bella Snape."

The only thing Delphini had actually _requested_ for Christmas was to change her name. She dropped the Druella, for she had no connection to her maternal grandmother, a woman who, Narcissa assured her, had been cruel and sharp-tongued, but she wanted to honor her mother while solidifying her connection with her father, thus Delphini Druella Black became Delphini Bella Snape.

Severus had been touched by this request and made it happen as soon as he could get the paperwork filed.

"Pardon me," said Bill Weasley, glancing at Minerva. " _Delphini B. Snape._ Miss Snape, a First year Slytherin, was suspended after she attacked another student with the Cruciatus Curse."

"An _unprovoked_ attack," called out Graham Montague. "That's important to note."

"Ah, well, yes, it would be..." said Bill awkwardly. "Except that, as it turns out, the girl may have indeed been provoked."

"May have?" asked Professor Rosier, who was seated beside Narcissa (the latter of whom was trying her hardest not to comment). "There's no 'may have' about it, Mr. Weasley. She was being bullied by three girls, two in her year and one older, and was surrounded by a crowd of other students, many of whom were laughing at her, at the time of the incident."

"They'd stolen a private letter she'd written to her father and were sharing the contents with the crowd," Neville Longbottom continued. "They were also speculating she'd been fathered by Lord Voldemort," (the name earned hisses and jeers) "And taunting her over her mother's death. While I know I am not alone in saying the wizarding world is better off without Bellatrix Lestrange in it, I am certain I am also not alone in saying that no child deserves to be teased about his or her parents." He glanced at his grandmother, who nodded supportively. "What's more, I can only imagine the pain of having it pointed out to half the student body that the girl she inevitably attacked is the granddaughter of the woman who killed Miss Black's mother."

This brought on some whispering, as it was well-known that Bellatrix Lestrange had been killed by Molly Weasley.

"In that very room, no less!" pointed out Professor Rosier. "The poor child already has to eat lunch in the room in which her mother died. To have had the circumstances of that death turned into a source of amusement by the other girls must have been terrible painful!"

There were more murmurs and mutters from many of the board members at this, as many of them were torn between their own hatred of the sadistic Bellatrix Lestrange and their strong-held beliefs that no child deserved to suffer the sins of her parents.

"Yes, well..." Bill cleared his throat. "The girl she attacked feels very sorry for having teased her..."

"And are we having an expulsion hearing for that girl as well?" asked longtime Board of Governors secretary Augusta Longbottom gruffly. She was seated between her grandson, Neville, and Minerva. She sent Bill a sharp look, having figured out that his daughter was involved. "If she taunted the girl as badly as we're hearing she did..."

"I heard no such thing prior to this afternoon," spoke up another Board of Governors member, Mercy Shafiq. "Miss Black – excuse me, Snape – was being cruelly picked on by a group of other students when this occurred, we know this for certain?" She glanced at Minerva, who confirmed. "And where were the professors while this was going on?"

"It was during the end of a meal and we were transitioning from the Great Hall," explained the Headmistress. "I regret that no member of my staff realized..."

"We have been paying much more careful attention during meals since," Professor Longbottom broke in. "And we have also had a meeting with all prefects, Head Girl, and Head Boy about the importance of being aware of what is happening when students are gathered, as bullying will not be tolerated at Hogwarts."

Various witches and wizards called out their agreement, several of whom were as upset as Mercy Shafiq at not having been made well aware of the circumstances in advance.

"Use of the Cruciatus is a serious offense," Bill continued, but Narcissa could tell his resolve was failing. "Even when provoked..."

"One against three and surrounded by more!" snapped Augusta Longbottom. "Who wouldn't feel the need to protect herself? I want the names of these other three girls!"

Again a rise from the crowd seemed to be in support of letting Delphini stay, as many were angered and horrified by this behavior by the other students, and several echoed Augusta in calling for them to be identified.

"But the Cruciatus Curse," Bill tried to continue. He was losing control of the group.

"The Daily Prophet said she'd seen it used before, in her home," said yet another Board of Governors member, Patton Burke. He glanced at Narcissa, who couldn't fight the urge to adjust the silky green scarf hiding the unsightly scar across her throat. "Presumably she was unaware of the magnitude of such a curse, but now that she herself has experienced it, the poor child, surely she wouldn't do so again!"

"I believe you are correct," said Minerva. "Which is why it is my recommendation as Headmistress that Miss Snape be permitted to return at the end of the Christmas holiday. She is a bright, promising girl with a kind heart who poses no danger to the other students. She deserves a second chance."

"Yes, she does!" said Augusta Longbottom.

"All children are deserving of second chances!" said Patton Burke. "Why is this even up for discussion? And since it is, why aren't we meeting about the other girls? I'm with Augusta. I want their names too."

Board member Althea Mavros concurred. "If the other girls are permitted to stay in school, so should Miss Black!"

"I agree," Bill Weasley said, surprising everyone in the room – himself included. For though his mother had pushed this exact message, he hadn't been willing to listen to it, too upset over what had happened to his own daughter to consider Delphini's side, until he heard the call to hold his own daughter accountable for her actions and realized it was hypocritical to believe one girl had simply made a mistake while the other was inherently bad for her actions. "It is not fair to punish one child significantly more harshly than the others," he added with an air of defeat. "Considering the circumstances... I agree with Minerva."

"You agree?" asked Graham Montague, looking livid. "I don't! I don't want the _secret lovechild_ of Severus Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange in the same dormitory as my Charlotte!"

"Fear not," said Minerva. "She's already been re-Sorted. She will not be in the same House as your daughter, nor will she be sharing a room with yours, Bill."

This caused a number of small side conversations to break out, as no one had ever heard of a student being permitted to change Houses midway through his or her first year... or ever, actually.

"There _is_ precedent for it," Minerva assured them. "It has happened twice since I joined the Hogwarts staff over fifty years ago, once in 1961 and again in 1986. The portrait of Headmaster Dumbledore, available in my office, will confirm this for anyone who questions my memory."

"No one here would be daft enough to doubt your word," said Augusta Longbottom with finality. Beside her, Neville nodded vigorously. Most of the other professors vocally agreed, including Hagrid, who called out "Here, here!" and rapped his massive knuckles on the table, upending several water glasses.

"I think we should vote," said Professor Aurora Sinistra. She looked expectantly to Septima Vector, with whom she'd made up over the holiday. "Who calls for the vote?"

"I do," said Bill Weasley, looking downhearted even though he'd just said he was changing his tune about expelling the girl. He wished he'd never started down this road to expulsion.

"Go on, then," prompted Hagrid.

"Very well. All in favor of expelling Delphini Bla- er, Delphini Snape, from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

A smattering of board members, including Graham Montague, plus Professors Trelawney, Boot, and Winx raised their hands.

"Opposed?" asked Bill.

The majority of board members, plus Professors Longbottom, Flitwick, Hagrid, Sinistra, Hooch, Rosier, and, of course, Malfoy, went up, as did Minerva's, and, after a second's pause, Professor Vector's.

"Still abstaining, Tiberius?" Minerva asked Professor Brooks.

"You don't need me to have the majority, Minerva," he said gruffly. Her lips thinned. He heaved a sigh as if being put out. "But since it's for the record..."

He raised his hand.

"There it is, then," said Bill. "A solid majority rules, the girl may return to Hogwarts at the end of the Christmas holiday." He turned to Augusta. "As secretary, you'll keep the minutes and report the decision both to the family and the Prophet?"

"I shall," she said, dipping her quill and continuing to list names.

"If it's the same to you, Augusta," said Narcissa politely, silently commending herself for having kept her mouth shut during the discussion as Minerva had requested, "I'd like to inform the family."

-0-0-0-

"I get to go back?" Delphini looked from her aunt to her father and back. "I... I don't know how I feel. This means I can get a new wand?"

"That's right," said Severus, putting his arm around her. "And you'll be in Ravenclaw, with Annika Scamander."

"And if you need me, I'll be right there in the castle," said Narcissa.

"I'm so happy for you," said Hermione. She tugged one of the girl's messy French braids – her first attempt at plaiting them herself.

"Thank you!" Delphini threw her arms around Hermione. "They never would've said so if it wasn't for you. And Mrs. Weasley. Should I write a thank you to Mrs. Weasley? I should. I will! But first, can we go get my wand now? I need a wand. They broke mine, the one that was my mother's."

"Probably for the best," said Narcissa. "I should have gotten you your own wand in the first place."

"Let's go now!" Delphini exclaimed.

"Ollivander's is closed now," said Severus with a chuckle. "But we'll head to Diagon Alley first thing in the morning, I promise."

"I'm going to write to Annika, to tell her we'll be roommates. And then I'll write to Mrs. Weasley. No, Mrs. Weasley first. And then Draco! I'll have to tell Draco. Can I tell Helena now?"

"Only if she's not already asleep," said Hermione. Delphini was already hurrying up the stairs, her cane forgotten by the cellar door, as she hadn't needed it much lately.

"Glad she's excited to go back," said Narcissa. "I was worried."

"Care for a drink?" Severus led the way into the sitting room. He went straight to the liquor cabinet to pour two glasses of red wine for the witches and a firewhiskey for himself.

"Mind if I smoke?" asked Narcissa. Without waiting for permission, she lit her cigarette with the end of her wand.

"All the loose ends, tied up like a Christmas present," Hermione said. She sipped her wine. "Well, almost."

"What do you mean?" asked Narcissa.

"I still don't know how your sister's knife ended up at Borgin and Burkes. I'm not sure I ever will."

"Perhaps some questions are not meant to be answered," said Narcissa. She took a long drag and flicked her ashes into a tray she'd transfigured from a fireplace poker. "Though that one is. My niece, Nymphadora, had the knife. She'd gotten it from Bill Weasley." Narcissa took another puff and let the smoke out in a circle – she'd finally learned to blow smoke rings. "I saw her in the hall at Hogwarts during the Final Battle, not long before she was killed. She had the knife on her hip. I asked her where she'd gotten it and told her it belonged to my sister. I said I wanted it back. She told me I'd have to duel her for it. I hadn't spoken to my sister Andromeda in decades – still haven't – but I saw no need to battle my own niece, not when there was a war going on around us, not to win back a knife Bella had only used to commit terrible atrocities against other people. I told her to keep it, blocked her attempt to Stupefy me, and hurried off to find my son. I didn't give a damn who won or lost the battle. I only wanted to be sure my Draco was alive in the end."

"The day Bellatrix carved that word in my arm, we apparated from Malfoy Manor straight to Shell Cottage, where Bill lives," said Hermione. "The knife was still in Dobby's chest when we arrived. That's how Bill must've gotten it, we left it behind when we broke into Gringotts. I don't know why he gave it to Tonks..."

"Perhaps because only a Black could properly wield it. Honestly, I'm surprised it even worked for Lucius. It shouldn't have been possible... but, I suppose, that's why I'm still alive, why I was able to heal. Had Bella used that knife to slit a person's throat, they'd be dead."

"But how did it end up at Borgin and Burkes?" Hermione asked.

Narcissa toyed with her cigarette. "I probably shouldn't have," she said after a long pause, "But I took it off her body after she died. Nymphadora's. She was laid out in the Great Hall beside her werewolf husband, not far from my sister, and I saw the handle... it wasn't difficult to take it. No one was paying attention. I took it for the same reason I took Bella's wand from the table and the jewelry off her body. It was a Black family heirloom. No one else deserved to have it, least of all our..." She had the good sense to look ashamed. "Our enemies."

"But _how_ did it end up at Borgin and Burkes?" Hermione persisted, setting aside her disgust over the fact that the woman had taken the knife off her dead niece.

"You sold it," said Severus, correctly guessing the truth before Narcissa could speak. "You sold it when you were pregnant. By me."

Narcissa's face turned the color of the wine in her glass.

"There was a Healer at St. Mungo's who specialized in working with... working with issues like mine, and curses like the one killing Astoria. Old magic. When I discovered I was... expecting..." She glanced at Severus. "I thought I might actually leave Lucius, but first I had to know if I could even give birth without killing myself, and if that were possible, what I might be able to do about the Blood Oath. This Healer... She... wasn't inexpensive. And I couldn't take galleons from our shared vault without Lucius finding out."

"You wanted to keep the baby?" Severus asked, guilt rearing up inside him.

She shrugged halfheartedly. "I don't know what I wanted. No, that's not true. I wanted out of my marriage. I wanted to take Draco, and take my unborn baby, and disappear. Go to China or Australia or America, somewhere too far away for the past to follow us. But the Healer said nothing could be done about the Blood Oath, that even if she got me through childbirth unscathed, I'd still die, I'd die and leave my baby an orphan, and since you... you'd already sent me that potion... I'm sure you assumed I'd taken it already... the trials were starting... and I realized I'd sold the knife for nothing."

"On trial, you said you had no idea where Lucius got the knife," said Hermione, unable to suppress her accusatory tone. "You said you hadn't seen it since the war."

"Yes." Narcissa blew three more smoke rings in quick succession. "I lied."

"You lied?" Hermione was incredulous. "You can't lie in front of the Wizengamot!"

"You're speaking to the woman who lied to the face of the Dark Lord, Hermione. Trust me, if there's anyone who could lie to the Wizengamot..."

"That only leaves one question unanswered, then," said Severus. He finished his firewhiskey and Accioed over the bottle. "Why did Lucius bet Reginald he couldn't get Hermione to date him? Why did he buy off his debt?"

"I can't answer that for you," said Narcissa. "Though I assumed it was because he was hoping to eventually get to fuck you."

"Why?" asked Hermione. "I'm a Mudblood. He hates me."

Narcissa smiled. "That's _precisely_ why, little girl. To Lucius, taking you to bed – especially given the circumstances – was the ultimate triumph. He saw you subjected and objectified, used and discarded, punished while acting as a receptacle for his pleasure. If you asked him, he might tell you differently, but the truth is he'd been obsessed with you for years. I hated it. And, by extension, I hated _you._ But it was never your fault. All you did was... exist. He did not like you from the moment Draco wrote us home about you his first year. You were the brightest Hogwarts had seen in some time, and a Muggleborn. Lucius saw it as a personal humiliation, as if your intention was to best our son rather than to do your best. Then you became close with Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and Weasley, a blood-traitor, and Lucius' resentment of you intensified. He became more interested in you after the battle at the Department of Mysteries – more interested in conquering and ultimately destroying you, while using you for his own enjoyment – and by the time the war was nearing its end..." She set the cigarette down on the edge of the ashtray and sipped her wine. "As awful as your torment was at the hands of my sister, Hermione, you should be grateful Lucius didn't take charge of you instead. You were so very _young_ then. Though, for what it's worth, I would have put up a fight, as I did years later. His infatuation with you greatly contributed to the crumbling of our marriage... not that it wasn't tearing at the seams for a good ten years before the Dark Lord's return."

Hermione set her wine glass down on the table, the contents of her stomach swirling. "So that's it, then. Lucius Malfoy has been obsessed with conquering me since I was a teenager."

"I've changed my mind," said Severus, refilling his whiskey glass. "I don't want to discuss this with Lucius. I want to kill him."

"Be my guest," said Narcissa offhandedly, as if he'd asked for one of her cigarettes. "If you do it within the next twenty-four hours I'll be a widow instead of a divorcee and then I'll be permitted to keep the money in our vault, though the Manor still goes to Draco. Mind, you'll end up in Azkaban for life, so before you confront him, ask yourself: is that vile man _really_ worth your freedom?"

"No," said Hermione, reaching out to take Severus' hand, half afraid he would apparate to Malfoy Manor this instant and do something he couldn't take back. "He's not worth a second thought, never mind your life in exchange for his."

"He ought to be punished," said Severus.

"He's being punished now," said Narcissa. She stubbed out her short cigarette and lit a second one. "I'm free of him, I'm happy with someone else, and I've got Draco on my side, and you..." She smiled cagily at Hermione. "You're with Severus. There's no man you could have fallen for that would bother him more, my dear, than the one who spent the better part of two decades betraying the Dark Lord to Dumbledore. The best way to punish my husband – soon-to-be-ex-husband – is to live your lives without giving him a second thought."

"Can't we beat him to a bloody pulp, then go one living our lives without giving him a second thought?" asked Severus, whose hand was clenched tightly around his glass.

"Why don't we just get married and invite him to the ceremony?" asked Hermione, battling down the sickness in the pit of her stomach, aware she would have to process this later, but unwilling to start doing so now.

Narcissa laughed heartily. "Oh, Hermione, dear, _don't_ do _that_ , that was _my_ plan!"

"Can you marry Siobhan?" asked Severus, momentarily distracted from the intense desire to break every bone in Malfoy's body. "Is that... legal?"

"I don't know," said Narcissa. "But it doesn't matter. I was only joking; I'm never getting married again. And I'm not having more children or marrying anyone with children or marrying anyone who wants to have children or even dating anyone who intends to make me interact with their children, unless their children are old enough to drink. Teaching students for the next however many years I can manage it will be quite enough, thank you."

They talked for hours, letting the conversation stray comfortably from one subject to the next, until it was past midnight. Narcissa finished her last glass of wine and stood, hands shaking slightly (drinking still had this effect on her). She slipped quietly upstairs first to kiss her niece goodnight, then came back down and Flooed directly from Spinner's End to Hogwarts.

Severus and Hermione left the dishes in the sink to handle in the morning and headed up to bed. After changing into pajamas and brushing their teeth, they made their way down the hall to check on the children.

First, they popped into Delphini and Helena's room. Delphini was sprawled out atop her covers, wearing the new robe with Ravenclaw crest that she'd been given for Christmas, her unbraided hair spread wildly across the pillow, her BELLA doll beside her.

In the bed along the opposite wall, Helena clutched her favorite doll to her chest as if for dear life, surrounded by stuffed animals as if in the center of a protective circle.

"Now that we've fixed Delphini's problem," Severus whispered, wrapping his arms around from Hermione from behind, "We'll have to work on Helena's. She still doesn't fully trust us, not since the kidnapping. She's easy to read, thankfully, but I have no idea how to best help her."

"She's always been such an easy child," Hermione whispered. "I think I've taken that for granted. I think of her as older because she acts older, but she's just a little girl. Perhaps we can get Luna to come over with Annika for a day before school starts. We can pay her to watch the little ones while the older girls get better acquainted, and we can take Helena out for the day, just the three of us."

He kissed Hermione's temple and murmured his support of this plan.

Next they moved into Hero and Henry's bedroom. Henry was sleeping half on the bed and half off, with the covers on the floor. He had six trucks lined up on his pillow, leaving no room for his head.

"He's a much happier child than I was," Severus whispered. He gathered up the blankets and moved Henry closer to the wall as Hermione relocated the trucks to his toy box. "And his behavior has been better lately, too."

"Because of you," whispered Hermione. "You're good with him."

"You're a good mother," Severus reassured her, sensing her self-doubt. "They're good kids because of you."

"Hero will grow up not remembering any of this," whispered Hermione, glancing over the side of the crib at her sleeping blonde-haired baby. "You'll be the only father she ever knows."

"Good," said Severus. "I hope to be the only father all three of them remember."

"When you responded to my ad," Hermione whispered, leaning back against Severus' chest as he again enveloped her in his embrace from behind. "You addressed your letter to 'Desperate Witch' and signed it 'Equally Desperate Wizard.' Do you still value your privacy above all else, as you wrote?"

"I've found that there is much more in life to value than one's solitude," he answered honestly. She turned, kissed his cheek, and led him by the hand back into the bedroom they shared.

"I thought you were hiring me for... for precisely what I figured anyone who replied to that ad would hire me for," she said. She let down her hair, removing her wand from her bun, and crawled into bed. He climbed in beside her, placing his own wand on his bedside table. She snuggled close.

"I know," he said. "I apologize for having a bit of fun with you before telling you what the job entailed. I wouldn't have, had I known the circumstances."

"Don't be sorry. I enjoyed our verbal foreplay."

"You mean wordplay?"

She grinned at him, flicked her wrist to put out the lights, and lowered her lips to just above his.

"No."

She kissed him.

"After that first meeting with you I had a couple of lines from Hamlet pop into my head." He pulled her on top of him, his hands snaked up the back of her ghastly Christmas elf pajamas. "'Tis but our fantasy... 'twill not appear.' Marcellus says Horatio has said the apparition is in their imaginations, and then Horatio says that it will not appear. Of course, the line has nothing to do with the sort of fantasies I was having about you, but even so..."

"You were having fantasies about me?"

"I fantasize about you on a daily basis," he admitted. "Have for months. Still do."

"I used to fantasize about you," said Hermione. "But it turns out the reality is so much better than anything I could have imagined, I've given up. I prefer real you to apparition you any day."

He chuckled. "I'm sure I didn't say I was an apparition..."

"Hush. What's that line I liked from Hamlet? The one at the end? Oh, I remember: 'Goodnight, sweet prince.' A perfect goodnight to you, isn't it? Or it could be slightly amended to, 'Goodnight, sweet Half-blood Prince.'"

"It would be fitting if I were _dying_ ," said Severus.

"I'm choosing to take it out of context, like you did with 'Tis but our fantasy... 'twill not appear.' And I'm making it mean what I want it to."

"You're rewriting Shakespeare."

"So?" She rested her head on his right shoulder, her hand on the center of his chest, as he stroked her thick hair. "Maybe some of Shakespeare's plays need rewriting. A number of those tragedies could certainly benefit from happier endings."

"Are tragedies meant to have a 'Happily Ever After'?" Severus placed his free hand atop hers.

"Why not?" she asked. She shut her eyes, moments away from succumbing to sleep. "Ours does."

* * *

 **A/N:**

So, this was the last chapter! (and the longest... holy guacamole.)

Up next there's an epilogue.

Thanks so, so, so much for sticking with this story, and for all of your support! :)

 **-AL**


	55. EPILOGUE: The Rest is Silence

**EPILOGUE**

 **The rest is silence.**

 **-Hamlet, William Shakespeare**

 **LATE AUGUST, 2009**

 **(11 Years Post Final Battle)**

"All these are yours?" asked the Muggle woman at the hotel's front desk. She eyed Hermione and Severus and their brood: one thirteen year old with dark skin and box braids, one twelve year old with milky-white skin and a frizzy ponytail, one almost-seven-year-old with brand new glasses sliding down her tiny nose, one four-and-a-half year old with chocolate all over his fingers and face, and two grey-eyes toddlers with platinum blond hair.

"This week, they're all ours," said Hermione, smiling pleasantly. Beside her, Severus appeared annoyed by the question – by the fact that the woman was asking any questions, really. They'd taken the Floo network, two portkeys, and a Muggle bus to get to their hotel in Barcelona and he just wanted to check into their rooms to take a nap. He glared at the desk clerk, who regarded them with suspicion in return.

"I'm their only biological child," Annika Scamander piped up. "Can't you see the resemblance?" She tried to keep a straight face, but Delphini's shoulders started shaking and the two girls quickly half-collapsed into giggles. Helena joined them, though she didn't get the joke.

"I'm sorry about them. We've been traveling all day," said Hermione, bumping the girls aside. "The children are exhausted to the point of silliness."

As if on cue, Hero stretched her arms up, staring at Severus with a pout on her face. "Pick me up, Dada?"

"Me!" cried Scorpius, doing the same to Hermione, not one to be left out. "Up! Up!"

The hotel clerk handed Hermione their room keys as she and Severus lifted the toddlers. Once they'd found their rooms, Hermione insisted everyone take two hours of quiet time before going to eat and explore.

The room in which she and Severus would be sleeping boasted a large bed, a small couch, and the crib they'd requested in advance. In the adjoining room, there were two beds, an easy chair, and another crib.

Hermione quickly transfigured the couch into a bed for Henry and the chair into a bed for Helena while the older girls chose their own beds. She placed Hero in the crib in the girls' room for a quick nap and took Scorpius with her, Henry, and Severus into the larger room.

"I'm glad we offered to bring him," Hermione said as she set him down in the crib. She added in a whisper, "Narcissa said Astoria is growing sicker with every passing year. Draco doesn't want to think about the future, but Narcissa says she'll be surprised if his wife lives long enough to see Scorpius head to Hogwarts."

Once naptime was over, they went to a nearby tapas place for an early repast, then went out for dessert and took a walk on the beach at sunset.

"Why are so many Muggles looking at us the way that hotel clerk did?" Severus murmured to Hermione. Their stares made him feel like he had the first time he went to Diagon Alley after his release from the convalescent center.

"I don't know," she replied. "Could it be because, while I'm wearing a sundress and my three biological children are in summer attire, you, your daughter, and your daughter's cousin are all dressed more like you're about to attend a funeral than walk on the beach in August in Spain? And don't get me started on Annika's ensemble."

(Rolf's niece was wearing a short radish red frock paired with actual radishes for earrings, neon green stockings, at least thirty hand-made bracelets, and her patent leather school shoes, while Delphini had chosen to travel in a floor-length, long-sleeved black dress with cutout shoulders that looked like something her mother would've worn, though it had no corset, and Scorpius was in a tiny three-piece suit with bowtie, as Narcissa thought he should look 'presentable' when abroad and had been assured this was what upper-class Muggles wore.)

"I'm wearing what I always wear," Severus said, scowling. "I saw what you packed for me, and if you honestly think you'll get me into that strange pastel shirt and those trousers missing material from the knees down..."

"A blue polo shirt won't kill you, those trousers are called shorts, and, simply put, we don't blend in. What did you wear when you traveled on holiday with Charity Burbage?"

"This," he answered, gesturing down toward his traditional buttoned down vest and coat, long-sleeved shirt, and trousers, all black. "Though we never went to the beach. We visited Rome once. And Normandy. And Munich. And Cairo."

"How did you keep from overheating in Egypt?"

"Cooling charms, of course."

Hermione shook her head. "You're an impossible man. No cooling charms here. We're living like Muggles for one whole week, especially when in public, and that means dressing like them too! You can't swim in these heavy clothes."

"Swim!" He nearly fell face-first into the sand. "I can't swim in _any_ clothes!"

"You prefer to swim naked?" she asked cheekily. Luckily the older children were far enough ahead not to hear them and the toddlers weren't paying attention.

"I can't swim at all. I've never tried. I've never put even a toe in the ocean. Or in the Mediterranean, for that matter. Hell, I've never even waded into a lake!"

"Oh, Severus." Hermione, looking upon him with pity, took his hand. "Well, I know what we'll be doing tomorrow. Good thing I packed swim trunks and sunscreen for you."

-0-0-0-

One week later, by the end of their vacation, Severus had become better acquainted with the water, but was still wary of it. The children, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to live on the beach. They'd done as much as possible in the lovely city, including visiting a museum featuring the work of Muggle artist Pablo Picasso, eating more shrimp and mussels than they thought they could handle, finding perhaps the best ice cream place in all of Europe, spending an entire day in the aquarium, and taking two educational sightseeing tours, which the children mostly hated but the adults enjoyed, in addition to spending a considerable amount of time in or near the Mediterranean sea.

The kids had mostly been well-behaved, though the youngest three had experienced their share of tears and tantrums at times, mostly when overtired, and Helena asked so many questions about everything Hermione eventually dragged them into a small store to buy the girl a guidebook written in English so she could find the answers herself... plus Severus, at one point, had to practically chase away a couple of fourteen-year-old Spanish boys who wanted to take Delphini and Annika out for tapas between lunch and dinner.

("No daughter of mine is going to be dating some _boy_ ," he'd snapped. Then, remembering Narcissa and Siobhan, he added, "Or some girl, either." Hermione had only laughed.)

"Do we have to go home so soon, Mummy?" asked Helena. She was sitting in the sand teaching Henry to build a castle, while Hero and Scorpius "helped," which mostly meant decorating it with shells and rocks until the towers collapsed.

"I'm sorry, Love," said Hermione. She was sitting in front of Severus with her back to his chest. She was in only a swimsuit, like the children (save for Delphini, who wore a long lace overlay over hers) and had managed to get Severus into the trunks, but he insisted upon wearing his black t-shirt too, 'to save anyone the discomfort of having to see my scars.' "I have to go back to work on Monday. The Ministry needs me. And Professor has to go back to doing... What is it you do all day, dear?"

He smiled, as able to tease her as she was him. "Watch movies on the telly and drink firewhiskey while the children roam the neighborhood unsupervised like a pack of wild dogs."

"That's right. How could I forget?" She giggled when he kissed her cheek.

"Ew," said Delphini, catching the kiss. She and Annika were returning from buying juice drinks for everyone. "Must you do that in public? Merlin's beard, Dad! You two are as bad as Auntie and Siobhan."

"No, they're not," argued Annika. "Professor Black was in the Daily Prophet back in April because a reporter caught her having a snog – _and_ a cigarette – behind Madam Puddifoot's while she was _supposed_ to be supervising a Hogsmeade visit. I heard Professor McGonagall _tipped her cauldron_ over it!"

"Auntie said at least she didn't get caught smoking elven herbs in the Forbidden Forest like Professor Vector," said Delphini.

Annika gasped. "Professor Vector got caught doing _what_?"

"That's enough gossip, girls," Hermione chastised lightly. But she had seen the picture too, and McGonagall had indeed 'tipped her cauldron,' according to a letter from Narcissa they received shortly thereafter.

 _Thankfully,_ the letter concluded, _she's decided to keep me on staff for next year anyway, since the previous professor opted not to return._

That night, after another delicious dinner and an hour spent packing, Hermione and Severus tucked the six children into bed. Once they were certain the younger ones were asleep and the eldest two were reading quietly in their beds, they slipped out to the balcony off of their bedroom for a bottle of wine and some alone time. It was a warm, beautiful night with a light breeze and a full moon, reflected in the calm blue sea. They stood shoulder to shoulder, leaning against the balcony rail, staring out at the water.

"It seems we've survived our first holiday abroad as a family," Severus said, clinking his glass against Hermione's.

"With two extras in tow, no less!" She took a long sip. "Work will feel like a vacation after this vacation. But I've enjoyed every minute."

He set his glass down on the edge of the balcony, did the same with hers, and turned her to face him.

"We went on our first date one year ago this week," he said. "I took you to see Hamlet. Minerva watched the children. And you refused to have sex with me, no matter how much I begged, because you don't shag on the first date."

She giggled. "I don't remember it going quite that way, sir. As a matter of fact, I seem to recall asking you to spend the night and you saying in no uncertain terms that you'd do no such thing, even though I was ready and willing. You simply weren't interested."

"I wanted to take you to bed the first time I kissed you."

"In the cellar, while I was crying, after we'd had that silly row?"

"Yes." He kissed the tip of her nose. "You're a romantic crier."

"I appreciate that you respected me enough not to," she whispered, slipping her hands around his waist. "I think I fell in love with you on our first date, when I asked you to stay and you said no. Most men would not have said no."

"I am not most men."

"For that, I am undeniably grateful." She rested her cheek against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat over the light waves of the sea. She was so content, so focused on the moment and cocooned by his love, she almost missed his quietly spoken next words.

"Marry me."

"Hmm?" She pulled away, certain her ears must be playing tricks on her. They hadn't spoken of marriage, not at all, not one way or the other, since they made up from that huge fight they'd had the previous fall, shortly after Delphini came to live with him. "What did you say?"

"You can say no," Severus said quickly, wondering if she could make out the vulnerability surely evident in his eyes despite the darkness surrounding them. "If you say no, I'll understand, and I won't love you any less, and it will not impact how we–"

She cut him off. "Did you ask me to marry you?"

"I did," he said, taking a small box from his inside pocket. "But I'll not be hurt if you–"

"Ask me," she said, her eyes wide. "Ask me again. Ask me to marry you."

"Will you..." Severus cleared his throat and, somewhat awkwardly, thrust the small box, which was still closed, toward her. "Hermione Granger... Will you marry me?"

"Oh, Severus Snape!" she threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking the box out of his hand. "Yes, I'll marry you; I would love to marry you!"

"You would?"

"Yes! I know I said I'd never get married again, but you're different. _I'm_ different! And we'll be doing it for the _right_ reasons, not because we feel we should, not because we feel we're expected to or because we're having a baby, but because we love each other and we're committed to each other and we want the world to know we share a life together."

"I had this made for you." He handed her the small box, which she'd already almost forgotten about. She opened it and gasped.

The band was simple and silver, but the stones caught her eye.

"Our birthstones were melded together to create the large stone," he explained, tapping the largest one in middle, set in silver. "Mine is garnet, the red, and it's been melted with your sapphire, which is why it's purple dead center." It was heart-shaped, flanked by four small round stones, two on either side. "On the left, Delphini's is amethyst, Helena's is garnet..."

"Henry's is emerald, and Hero's is aquamarine." She touched each small colored stone. "Severus, it's beautiful."

"By adding the children I thought, even if you said no, you might still like the ring." His cheeks went slightly pink, which just made Hermione love him all the more.

"I _do_ like the ring. I love the ring! And I love you. You needn't have worried. I said yes and I mean yes, Severus." She cupped his cheek and stood on her tiptoes to press her lips to his.

He kissed her back, then pulled away to slip the ring on her finger. "I'm glad you like it. And I'm glad you said yes."

"There's only one problem," she whispered.

"What's that?"

"It's so symmetrical. To which side will we add a stone... should we have another baby someday?"

His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. They'd been very careful with the birth control potion and had not discussed the possibility of more children, not since Siobhan asked over Christmas dessert and Hermione's answered "Not any time soon." Severus tucked a frazzled curl behind her ear.

"I suppose, to keep the ring looking its best, should we decide to have one we'll have to commit to having two." Now he was the one to cup her cheeks in his hands, leaning down to kiss her tenderly. "We've done quite well with six children this week, haven't we?"

"Oh no," she said. "We're going to end up like the Weasleys."

"Don't be silly," he murmured, his lips still touching hers. "With your hair and my nose, any child of ours would be much better looking than the Weasleys."

She laughed.

Then, thanks to the magic of Hermione's well-placed silencing charm and an obscuring disillusionment charm of Severus' own creation, they were able to make love on the balcony in the moonlight overlooking the sea.

 **-0-0-0-**

 **MID-JULY, 2014**

 **(16 Years Post Final Battle)**

Delphini had been home from Hogwarts for less than a month, Helena and Henry had been done with their new Muggle primary school for almost two months, and Hero had been home from her week-long vacation with Draco, Astoria, and Scorpius for three days, and already Severus and Hermione were going mad from having all of the children home all day, every day. Especially Severus, as at least Hermione was able to escape to work Monday through Friday.

Determined to have one calm, quiet Sunday to spend together before they had to start worrying about their upcoming annual holiday trip, Delphini's soon-to-begin last year of Hogwarts, Helena's soon-to-begin first year at Hogwarts, Henry's threat of being held back, and Hero's upcoming entry into Muggle primary school, they carefully arranged for all of the children to be out of the house for four uninterrupted hours of grown-up time.

They settled on the couch, determined to enjoy this afternoon (and not spend it napping, as they had the last full kid-free day they'd had, back in April). They were not having wine and cheese, as one might expect a couple to do on their in-home date, but tea and scones with jam and clotted cream, at Hermione's request.

They chatted awhile, but soon enough this progressed to cuddling, and then to snogging, and before long, Hermione was positioned in the lap of her husband of over four years, grinding against him as his hands made their way up the back of her blouse. She moaned, arching her back as his lips met the center of her throat. She was just about to ask him to take her upstairs when the front door slammed open and shut again, startling the pair on the couch.

"What... Delphini!" Hermione exclaimed as the seventeen-year-old barged into the room. "What's wrong?"

Delphini, who was looking more and more like her mother with each passing year, was red-faced and teary eyed, her fists clenched, her hair a wild mess. She wore all black, as usual, and her hair was today untamed, but clean and brushed. She even wore makeup, as much as Severus hated it, for it increased her resemblance to Bellatrix (but he would not tell her so).

Hermione climbed off of her husband's lap, awaiting Delphini's answer with concern.

"That toad!" the teen shrieked, finally finding her words. "I gave him the best months of my life and he wants to see other witches?!"

"This is about your boyfriend?" asked Severus.

Delphini narrowed her eyes.

"No, it's about Professor Flitwick." She threw up her hands. "Of _course_ it's about my boyfriend! No, wait, I suppose it isn't. I suppose it's about my _ex_ -boyfriend. Can you believe he tossed me aside, like yesterday's rubbish? Can you believe I let him see me _naked?!_ He actually had the gall to say we could still fool around, even if he's dating someone else, as if I would! As if my self-worth is so low that I would entertain the possibility of... of... of... Aughh! That pervert! That snake! That... that... that undeserving troglodyte!" She shrieked once more and stomped up the stairs to her bedroom, slamming that door as she had the front one.

"Did she say he saw her...?" Severus couldn't finish the sentence. Hermione avoided his gaze; she knew the extent of her stepdaughter's relationship with the young Muggleborn Hufflepuff who lived nearby, but by mutual agreement they hadn't told Severus. "Hermione, has that vile boy deflowered my Delphi?!"

"Let me talk to her," said Hermione, purposely not answering his question. "I've been a teenage girl and I've also been dumped by an undeserving troglodyte." She hurried upstairs.

Severus sat on the couch sipping tea (and thinking up all the ways he could kill that rotten, dirty Hufflepuff without getting caught) for a good half hour before Hermione finally returned to the sitting room.

"She'll be alright," said Hermione. "She wants to be alone for awhile. It hurts now, but she'll get past it. Now... where were we?" She crawled into his lap and kissed him soundly.

"We can't now!" he said, eyes darting toward the door.

"She'll be in her room awhile and if she comes out, we'll hear her. Of course if you'd rather take me up to our room..."

"Has that boy been shagging my daughter?" asked Severus, unable to get past this. "Has he been taking advantage of my innocent little girl?"

"No," said Hermione with a sigh. She patted his knee. "She's not little, remember, she's of age, but she told him she's not ready for... _that._ Which is why he wants to see other witches."

"I have a good idea about where to hide his body."

Hermione stood, pulling him up by the hand, and placed that hand on her hip. "Forget the boy. Eventually, _she_ will. She'll be _fine._ It happens. She's young. _I'm_ the one who's suffering. You realize we haven't had sex in over three weeks? This was supposed to be our afternoon together. Take me upstairs."

Putting Delphini's awful ex-Hufflepuff out of mind for now, he lifted his wife, holding her up with her legs around his waist, prepared to try to enjoy what was left of their kid-free day, when the front door opened again. And slammed shut.

"I'm never going over there ever again so long as I live!" shouted Henry. He threw his Junior Flyer Quidditch Broom on the sitting room floor and plopped on the couch, not at all noticing the semi-compromising position in which he'd found his parents.

"Henry!" gasped Hermione. Severus set her down. "How did you get home?"

"I walked!"

"That's too long for you to walk alone," Severus scolded. "You know that."

"You can't tell me what to do!" shouted Henry. "You're not my _father!_ That's what Robby Mickles says, anyway. He said, 'Why do you call your stepfather Professor? That's weird. I call mine Dad because he's like my dad.' I said, 'Professor is _like_ my dad, I just don't _call_ him Dad, I call him Professor' and he said, 'That's stupid. Is he even still a professor? Or maybe your Mum doesn't know his name! Har-har-har!' And I said, 'You take that back, Robby Mickles, you fuckin' tosser!' And he said..."

"You called your friend a 'fuckin' tosser?'" asked Severus. He tried to regard the boy sternly but as he had so often when Henry was little, he was fighting the urge to laugh. Hermione shot him a sharp look over her son's head and, using Occlumency, he composed himself.

"He can't talk about my mum and he can't talk about you either!" Henry insisted defensively. "He's a git anyway. I only play with him because there's only two wizard families besides us in this whole bloody town and he's the only kid my age and that rots!"

"You're this angry just because he asked you why you call Severus Professor? Doesn't that seem... excessive?" Hermione asked gently. "Why didn't you tell him..."

"There's more! He said what's even weirder is that Hero calls him Dad when he's _not_ her dad, and I said yeah, he _is,_ and he said, 'No, my mum's a witch and she says he's not,' and _I_ said, 'Yeah, well your Mum's an ugly old...'"

"Let's have a chat, Henry," interrupted Severus. "Come up to your room. You're nine now, not a little boy, and I'm going to be honest with you. If, at the end of it, you'd like to call me something other than Professor, that will be your choice. Alright, then?"

"Alright," said Henry. He was clearly still angry with his friend, but curious about whatever Severus was going to say. Hermione glanced at her husband nervously as he followed the boy from the room. Hero had started calling Severus "Dad" shortly after Delphini did, and they'd never stopped or corrected her, especially as Helena and Henry seemed to understand that she wasn't Reginald Park's daughter. She didn't want her son and daughter to know about Malfoy, but she supposed they had to be told _something_ , eventually.

She sat on the couch, nervously sipping tea and pulling apart a blueberry scone, until Severus returned.

"I didn't tell him about Malfoy," were the first words out of his mouth. She heaved a pronounced sigh of relief. "I told him Hero was born after you divorced his father, but before anyone knew about us, which is technically true, and reminded him that we didn't marry until he was five, but that doesn't make us any less of a family. I also reminded him that he and Helena call me Professor is because that's how you introduced us when they were little. He said he doesn't remember that. He says..." Severus couldn't help smiling. "He says he can't remember a time when I wasn't there, even though he remembers his father too. I told him if he would like to call me Dad as Hero does, I would be happy to have earned the title, but that it is entirely up to him. He asked where his dad is now and I said he's in Azkaban for kidnapping, illegal betting, and hurting Narcissa."

"He knows that," Hermione said. "We've talked about it."

"Perhaps he needed to hear it again," said Severus. He sat beside her, taking the mangled scone from her hands and putting it back on a plate, which he then placed on the table. "He also asked why Hero's last name is Granger-Snape but his is simply Granger and I told him this is because when you changed his name when he was little, it was only to be rid of his father's name, not to add mine. He said perhaps he'd like to add my name too, then." Severus' smile grew and Hermione couldn't help grinning back – he looked downright proud of himself, like a little boy who'd built a huge tower of blocks and wanted his mother to see it before it fell down. "I said I would talk to you about it. He said either way, yes, he'd like to call me Dad, as Hero does, and not because that fuckin' tosser Robby Mickle calls his stepfather dad."

"Did he say those words again? I hope you told him off for it."

"I would have, Hermione, but honestly, I've met Robby Mickle. He's a fuckin' tosser."

She swatted at his chest. Smirking, he leaned forward to kiss her.

Footsteps on the stairs parted them. It was Delphini.

"I'm Flooing to Rolf and Luna's," she said. "That's where Annika's spending the summer. I'll be back before dinner. I just got an owl from her." She held up a piece of parchment. "Her boyfriend broke it off with her a few days ago, for the same reason mine did! Can you imagine? I told her not to date a lousy Gryffindor." She glanced at Hermione and cringed apologetically. "No offense. But then, what do I know anyway? I thought I had a good, sweet Hufflepuff and he turns out to be a... a... a..."

"A fuckin' tosser?" Severus supplied. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Precisely! I'll be back soon." She stalked over to the fireplace, tossed in the Floo powder, stepped into the flames, and called out, 'Scamander Residence, Ottery St. Catchpole!"

"Now if we can only get Henry back out of the house," Severus started quietly, leaning forward to kiss his wife. But again they were interrupted by footsteps on the stairs.

"Hey, er, Dad? Will you walk me back to Robby's?" asked Henry, looking to Severus. He picked up his broom. "His cousins are coming over later and we're going to play a game, three on three, no seekers. I don't want to miss it, even if he is a..." Henry broke off, catching the stern glare of his mother. "A terrible friend sometimes."

Severus nodded.

"I'll be back soon," he said, glancing back at Hermione. "I have to walk my son to his mate's house."

She nodded, smiling, and summoned over her briefcase. She might as well get some work done from home if she was going to have the place to herself.

About half an hour passed before Severus finally returned.

"They made up," he explained. "All's well now... and he told Robby Mickle he's decided to call me Dad."

"That's nice. Now, can we continue our adults-only afternoon? We're running low on time!" Hermione grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him down into a searing kiss. She Vanished her paperwork to her desk upstairs as he lowered himself on top of her, one hand going to her hip, the other to her breast. "Mmm... yes... Severus... We should go upstairs."

"Why?" The hand on her hip moved up her sundress to the back of her thigh, thrusting her against him, the way he used to sixteen years before when they started this relationship, when they were determined not to have sex but couldn't keep their hands off each other.

She moaned, snaking her fingers under his hair to scratch at the back of his head. Their mouths met, lips parted, tongues caressing each other, and he thrust once between her legs as she again pleaded with him to take her to bed.

He was ready to comply when the front damn door opened again and slammed shut.

"MY LIFE IS OVER!" cried Helena, standing there in the doorway, tears streaming freely down her cheeks, looking very much like Delphini had a couple of hours earlier.

"Did a boy dump you, too?" asked Severus.

"A boy?! A BOY?! You're asking if a BOY...? I HATE BOYS! I HATE GIRLS. I HATE EVERYTHING! MY LIFE IS OVER!" Sobbing, Helena hurried up the stairs two at a time. A second later, her bedroom door slammed.

"We could probably have sex in the cellar," suggested Severus unhelpfully. "They won't find us down there. We'll charm the door locked. They'll think we went to the market or something."

She pushed him off. "I have to see what's wrong with her."

It was forty-five minutes before Hermione came back downstairs, during which time Severus traded his tea for a firewhiskey and read the first two acts of King Lear for the tenth time.

"What happened?" he asked, setting the play down. "She was supposed to be with her Muggle study group at the library."

"One of their mums drove her home. She got her..." Hermione sat beside him on the couch and lowered her voice, afraid to upset Helena further if she heard them discussing her. "She got her _cycle._ It seems, while I did a decent job of talking about boys and sex with Delphini, I neglected to explain the joys of womanhood to Helena. I suppose I simply thought she was too young to worry about it, but here we are. She thought she must have been cursed, like Astoria, and that she was literally going to die."

"You've been discussing boys and sex with Delphini?"

"That's beside the point, Severus." Hermione reached for the blueberry scone she'd been picking at earlier. It was slightly stale now, but she took a bite anyway.

"Will she be alright?"

"Yes. She'll be fine until I traumatize her with the particulars of where babies come from."

He snorted. "Is she going back to the study group?"

"No. I drew her a bubble bath. I told her the heat would help with the pain. She's soaking in it now, with a book, of course. And I also told her we'll have to have 'the talk' before she heads to Hogwarts. I don't want her to learn about sex from the other girls in her dorm."

"I don't want her to learn about it at all!" Severus broke off a piece of the scone and dipped it in his whiskey, which made Hermione cringe. "I want them all to be small again, like they were."

"Well, that's actually something I'd hoped to talk to you about today," Hermione began. She took his drink and put it on the table, then held his hands in hers. "I know we've given up trying..."

The blue flames in the fireplace turned green and a second later, grey-eyed Hero, age seven, stepped out of the Floo. She was dressed, as she usually was, more like a Muggle boy than like a young witch, in jeans, a striped t-shirt, and trainers. Her blonde hair was too short to plait, and over the years she'd developed a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, which thankfully helped reduce her resemblance to her half-brother, Draco, who stepped out of the fireplace a moment after she had.

"What is this, the bloody train station?" asked Severus. Hermione shushed him.

"Sorry to interrupt your afternoon," said Draco. "But we had a bit of a mishap."

"Look at my mouth!" said Hero, opening wide. Hermione gasped.

"Your front teeth are gone! Those were your only permanent teeth!"

"Scorpius hit me in the face while we were playing. On accident."

"Were you playing Quidditch?" Severus looked upon her with concern.

Hero shook her head. "No, chess."

"How did he knock out your teeth playing chess?" Hermione stared incredulously up at Draco, then shot Hero her best exasperated Mum expression.

"He said, 'Bet you can't catch this rook with your eyes closed!' I said, 'Bet you I can!' Then I closed my eyes and he threw it."

"Turns out she can't catch a rook with her eyes closed," said Draco dryly. "I'm terribly sorry about this. I could take her to St. Mungo's if..."

"It's alright, Draco." Hermione stood, sighing. "I'll take her."

"Sorry, Mummy! Sorry, Dad. I know you were gonna spend all day snogging and I didn't mean to wreck it!"

"You were going to spend all day snogging?" Draco seemed to be both repulsed and amused by this. "Taking a cue from my mother?"

"I don't know which of your siblings told you that, Hero Grace Granger-Snape, but it's not true!" snipped Hermione. "Do you have your teeth?"

Hero held them up.

"Let's go, then. Thank you for bringing her home, Draco. We'll be back in time for dinner, Severus. I hope!"

Once they'd gone, Severus and Draco chatted for a few minutes, then the younger wizard returned to Malfoy Manor, which he'd inherited upon his father's death two years ago. It made both Hermione and Severus uncomfortable for Hero to play over there, but since she and Scorpius were such good friends, and neither child had any reason to see the Manor as anything more or less than a large house with a lake on the grounds and a number of peacocks strutting about, they tried to set aside their personal discomfort for the sake of the kids.

-0-0-0-

Everyone made it home in time for dinner.

Hero could only have clear soups and water (for the next three days, until her magically reattached teeth had finished healing) but everyone else had takeaway fish and chips with pumpkin juice or butterbeer. After dinner, hormonal Helena and heartbroken Delphini had a screaming match over absolutely nothing, then Henry accidentally knocked Hero in the mouth with his broomstick (thankfully her teeth stayed in), then Hero and Helena fought over the loo as Hero needed a shower but Helena wanted another bath, after which Henry bore the brunt of Delphini's wrath when she caught him trying to use a wand to charm open her locked diary, which led to a row between Helena and Henry, as the wand he was using was hers, and finally Hero accidentally made Delphini cry when she asked innocently, "Did you boyfriend break up with you because you've got fat?"

Severus punished Henry for his misbehavior with the diary by taking away his broom for a week, while Hermione assured Delphini that going up two bra sizes since Christmas certainly didn't mean she "got fat" and was more likely to be the reason her boyfriend wanted to see her naked than the reason he broke up with her. Then Severus took Hero for a walk around Spinner's End to impart to her all the reasons she should keep such thoughts to herself, while Hermione held crying Helena, promising that growing into womanhood wasn't really as bad as it seemed.

By the time Severus and Hermione crawled into bed, it was nearly midnight and they were as exhausted as they'd been when the children were small and needed constant supervision.

"Just think," said Severus, spooning his wife, his hands on her midsection and her back to his chest. "In five years, Delphini will have moved out and the others will all be at Hogwarts from September through June, and we can have quiet sex-filled afternoons whenever we want them." He kissed her shoulder.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Severus." Hermione placed her hands over his, pressing them into her abdomen. "I know we stopped trying to get pregnant over a year ago..."

"But you'd like to try again?" He closed his eyes. "I don't know, Hermione. Those two years we gave it a go were awfully stressful. You remember how upset you were every month when...?"

"I don't want to try again," she interrupted. "I've already... We already... I... we... Severus?" She untangled herself from his arms and rolled over to face him. "In about six months, we're going to need a new stone for my ring."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying... I'm pregnant."

Severus was too shocked to react right away. His mouth dropped open like that of an old cartoon character, and he was quite certain his heart literally stopped beating for several seconds.

"Severus?"

"Pregnant?"

"Pregnant."

"We're pregnant?"

She smiled at him in the dark. "Yes, Love. We're pregnant."

"We're pregnant!" He kissed her, hard and quick, then leapt out of bed. "We have to prepare! We need to buy baby things! We'll have to choose a name! We have to tell the children! Where will be put a baby? Where can we fit a crib? We have so little room! That's it. One of the children has to move out. We'll have a vote to decide who. Let's tell them now."

"Not now!" She grabbed hold of his wrist, giggling. "Come back to bed."

"Are you certain?" He climbed back in beside her. "We shouldn't tell them if we're not certain."

"I'm certain. I went to St. Mungo's on my lunch hour Friday and I've been trying to tell you all weekend, but there has't been a proper moment. We're due around Christmas. We've got half a year to prepare."

"Half a year." Severus positioned himself over his wife. "You've wanted to tell me this all day?"

"All day." She kissed him. "All weekend. But the children, apparently, had other plans."

"They don't know yet?"

"They don't know."

"We'll tell them tomorrow?"

"We'll tell them tomorrow."

"You're pregnant."

"Yes." She brushed back his hair to better look upon his face. "I'm pregnant."

He moved his mouth down her body, kissing his way from her lips, down her throat, between her breasts, over her stomach, to her lower belly.

"Where?" he asked. "Whereabouts is it?"

"Here." She touched her fingertips to the approximate location of her uterus. "It's about the size of a lime."

"A baby." He kissed the spot where she'd placed her fingers. "Our baby."

"Our baby," she confirmed, resting her hand on the back of his head as he again kissed her lower belly. "The baby we made together."

He moved to spoon her again, his palm settled protectively over the approximate location of his lime-sized baby. "I suppose it's a damn good thing we didn't have sex today, then, isn't it? We could have hurt the baby."

She laughed. "Trust me, it won't hurt the baby."

"No?"

"No."

"In that case..." He pulled her closer, so her arse rubbed against his already growing erection, as one hand snaked up to her breast. "I reckon there's no reason not to...?"

She sighed contentedly as his lips moved to her shoulder, to the back of her neck, to the spot below her ear.

"Severus, I've been asking you to take me upstairs all day."

"In case it escaped your notice, Hermione..." He moved her to her back and slipped her pajama top off over her head. "We're upstairs now."

 **-0-0-0-**

 **1** **st** **SEPTEMBER, 2018**

 **(20 Years Post Final Battle)**

"YOU GOT A WHAT?" Severus shouted.

He was now fifty-eight years old, five years pain-potion free, a biological father of two and adoptive father of three, and the owner of his own apothecary, Mad Ophelia's, named for Hamlet's long-suffering girlfriend. He was a great many things he'd never thought he'd ever be, but one thing he was not, at least according to his twenty-one-year-old daughter, was cool.

Delphini raised her eyebrows. "Don't look so gobsmacked! Everyone's got them these days. Besides, who are you to judge? You've got the Dark Mark on your arm, and my mother had it on hers, and Hermione has the word Mud–"

"Those are not tattoos! Those are terrible reminders of a past we'd like to forget!" Severus shoved up Delphini's sleeve so he could see what permanent harm she'd let some pierced-up Muggle do to the lovely, unblemished skin of her forearm, but a bandage covered the carnage.

"Well, mine is something I wish to remember! I thought you'd like it, Dad. Let me take this off so you can see..."

"You thought I'd like it?"

"Look!" She removed the white gauze to reveal glossy, Gothic letters inked onto her inner forearm. "It's a quote from that play you and Hermione like so much: 'This above all, to thine own self be true.' I thought it was brilliant! It represents everything important to me. My mother was true to herself, that's why she was proud of her Dark Mark, but you had to pretend to be something you weren't for the greater good, keeping your true self hidden, and Hermione no longer hides the slur on her arm, because she's being true to herself, and it's a good reminder for me, to always remain true to my..."

"If you'd knitted it onto a jumper I think I'd like it better," said Severus, but he couldn't help feeling touched that she'd chosen such a significant quote.

"What are we doing standing around? We're going to miss the Hogwarts Express!" Helena rushed down the stairs, dragging her heavy trunk behind her, just-barely catching her glasses as they slipped off her face. "Is Hero ready? Is Mum? Where's Henry? Has anyone seen Henry?"

"You worry too much, Helena." Henry entered the sitting room from the kitchen, his broomstick slung over his shoulder. "Mum's ready, Hero's ready, I'm ready. We've all been waiting on you."

"On me? No one told me we were all ready! No one told me..."

"Calm down, Helena." Delphini threw an arm around her younger sister. "He's teasing. We're not ready to leave yet. While we're waiting, look what I got yesterday when I was out with Annika and the girls from work..."

Hermione bustled in, checking off items on her list. "I think that's everything. Oh, good, Delphini, you're here. We were worried when you didn't make it home last night."

"She branded herself," said Severus sullenly.

"That's nice," Hermione replied, distracted. She shrunk their trunks, hovered them into her expandable-charmed bag, and led them to the back door. "I feel like we're forgetting something. Let me think. We've got the school trunks, we're taking a Portkey from the back garden straight to London, we'll go via the Underground to..."

"Mummy!" A small boy slid down the stairs on his bum, calling for his mother in a panicked voice. "Mummy, what 'bout me?"

"Oh! Horatio! My baby!" She handed the charmed bag to Severus and hurried to pick up their son, three years and eight months old, the perfect mix of herself and her husband. He had Severus' silky black hair and dark eyes, but her easily tanned complexion and small nose. He also had a sunny disposition and strong desire to learn, but unfortunately he'd inherited their penchant for worrying.

"You leaved me on the potty. You said 'I be right back!' You did not come right back. I thinked maybe you _never_ comed back! I hadda wash my hands all by myself!" He held them up to prove they were clean.

"I'm so sorry, Love! It's your sister's first year at Hogwarts and..." She glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. "And we're going to be late! Let's go or we'll miss the Portkey!"

-0-0-0-

An hour later, they were standing on Platform 9¾, saying goodbye, as they'd done every year since 2009.

"What if no one likes me, Mum?" Hero asked anxiously. "What if I'm rubbish at all my subjects? What if...?"

"Hero!" Scorpius Malfoy rushed over, waving excitedly. "We're finally going to Hogwarts! We'll see all the ghosts! I hope we're in the same House. My grandmother says I have to call her Professor now and everything!"

"Henry!" Now another boy was shouting and waving. Hermione and Severus glanced down the platform to see James Sirius Potter, thirteen, and his younger brother Albus Arthur, standing between their parents. Holding Ginny's hand was a small girl Hermione knew to be Lily Luna. James Sirius called Henry's name again. This time Henry heard him and shouted back.

"Hey, you dumb git! Where've you been?"

"Must you talk to your friends that way?" Hermione asked. Henry, a third year, shrugged and hurried off to punch James in the arm, receiving a harder punch in return.

"You stupid bastard!" said James Sirius affectionately. "You barely wrote me all summer!"

"Gryffindors," scoffed Severus. Helena had ended up in Ravenclaw like her stepsister, but Henry was Gryffindor through-and-through, a brave and boastful boy, always showing off, with a trouble-making side. Severus couldn't help banking on Horatio being a Slytherin, like him, but didn't know what to hope for with Hero.

Harry made his way to Hermione and Severus. Ginny hesitated only a second before following. Helena, meanwhile, hurried over to her brother and his friend to tell them off for roughhousing in her official capacity as Prefect.

"The boys certainly _are_ good friends," said Ginny, smiling awkwardly at Hermione. Shy Lily Luna hid behind her mother.

"Yes, they are," agreed Hermione, returning the awkward smile. The two mothers glanced back at them. Now they were huddled together with Robby Mickle and another boy their age, whispering.

"They're always in detention," lamented Hermione. "Pulling pranks and losing House Points."

"They're the Fred and George of their time. It's not just me who says it. George does too. He loves getting letters from James Sirius, telling him all about their latest antics. I think he's already offered them jobs at the store for once they're out of school."

"Henry's given me more grief and grey hair than all my other children put together," said Hermione, chuckling. "I don't know how your mother handled having the twins."

"She hasn't seen you in awhile." Ginny looked a little sheepish, knowing she was partly the reason Hermione rarely came by the Burrow, now that she and Harry were living there. "She says she'd love to have you and Delphini for tea with us one afternoon soon, if you can get away from the Ministry."

"I'd like that. This attempted pureblood uprising has been keeping us pretty busy, but I think we've got it under control. Harry probably told you, but Montague and a number of former Death Eaters were arrested last week. That was akin to chopping the head off the snake."

The train whistle blew, indicating it would be leaving soon, as the engines roared to life.

Ginny and Harry said goodbye to their children as Draco and Astoria fussed over Scorpius, and Hermione hugged all three of her young students, reminding them to study hard and do their best and, for goodness sake, behave themselves (that last one was directed at Henry, of course). Delphini and Severus hugged the trio too, and Horatio cried when Hero stepped onto the train.

"Are you going to miss your big sister?" asked Severus, holding the boy in his arms. Horatio nodded.

"I'll write you letters, Horatio!" Hero called out the open window of the compartment she and Scorpius had taken.

"I can't read!" Horatio called back miserably.

"I'll draw pictures!"

Hero and Scorpius hung half out the window, waving, as the Malfoys and Granger-Snapes waved back. Helena, Hermione knew, was already getting ready to patrol the corridors, her new Prefect badge displayed proudly on her chest, while Henry was probably already managing some mischief with James Sirius.

They remained on the platform until the train had chugged completely out of sight.

"Well," said Severus, putting an arm around his wife, balancing Horatio on his hip. "Just think. Only eight more years and we'll have the house on Spinner's End all to ourselves."

"Oh, Dad, did I forget to tell you?" Delphini patted his arm sympathetically. "I'm pregnant."

"WHAT?!" he roared, causing Horatio to flinch and several sets of parents to look their way. He clutched his chest with the hand not holding his son, as if having a heart attack.

"Ha! Kidding!" She sniggered.

"That is _not_ funny, Delphini!" Hermione scolded. "You nearly killed your father."

"A little tattoo doesn't seem so bad now, though, does it Dad? I mean, it could be worse. I could be pregnant!"

"You could also be living on your own," Severus pointed out. "You're old enough now that no one would judge us for tossing you out in the streets."

She laughed at the threat, knowing he'd never make good on it.

"Horatio, my son, you'll never try to scare your father to death, will you?"

"No, Daddy!"

"That's a good lad."

"You be good for Daddy, Love." Hermione kissed her son on his forehead. "Delphini and I are off to work. Go home and work on your ABCs."

"Daddy!" Horatio looked betrayed. "You said we gonna watch the telly an' eat candy _all day_!"

Hermione cocked an eyebrow at Severus, who shrugged.

"I promise, Hermione. I only intend to ruin _this_ one."

 **-0-0-0-**

 **2 MAY, 2023**

 **(25 Years Post Final Battle)**

"Another one of those Where Are They Now anniversary special editions of the Daily Prophet." Severus slipped it across the breakfast table to Hermione. "Look, they've included your picture. _Hermione Granger-Snape, age forty-three, was considered the brains of Harry Potter's Golden Trio... She went on to marry three times_ – nice of them to list each of your husband's names, that's certainly pertinent information readers wouldn't wish to miss – _and has five children, two of whom work for the Ministry, and one of whom works at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes._ "

"I hold out hope Henry will find a real career someday," said Hermione, winking at eight-year-old Horatio across the table. Horatio loved his big brother's job.

"It even mentions that Hero is a prefect, how thorough."

"Does it mention me?" asked Horatio, nearly knocking over his juice while reaching for the paper.

"Indeed it does. See? _Horatio Prince Snape, age eight_."

Horatio, grinning, read the rest of the blurb out loud.

" _As our readers are no doubt aware, Hermione Granger-Snape took a two-year break from the office of Magical Law Enforcement two decades ago, only to return and rise quickly up the ranks, being named Minister for Magic just last year, the youngest woman to ever hold the position, and the eighth youngest Minister ever. She is well-known as a champion for the rights of house-elves and a proponent of the reclaiming of the blood-status slur You-Know-Who was famous for using against both Muggleborn and mixed-blood wizards and witches. Over the last five years, she successfully squelched a rising pureblood supremacy movement as Magical Law Enforcement Department Head, and was recommended for the position of Minister for Magic by then-current Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, who held the position longer than any other wizard in documented history._ I like your picture, Mummy."

It was from the day she was officially named Minister for Magic.

"I can't believe it's been twenty-five years since the Final Battle," said Hermione, taking the paper from her son. There were photographs and blurbs about all the regulars: Harry, Ron, Severus, Bellatrix, Voldemort, Minerva, Dumbledore, Draco, Narcissa, Neville...

"It's always a difficult day for Delphini," said Severus quietly. "When you see her at the Ministry today, invite her over for dinner. I don't want her to spend the night home alone with her cat."

"I will. Speaking of the Ministry..." Hermione stood, waving her wand to send her dishes to the sink. "I'm off to work. Don't want to be late!" She kissed Horatio first, then Severus. "I love you both."

"Love you," Severus said. "Thank you for saving me from the snake twenty-five years ago."

She kissed him a second time. "And thank you for answering my ad."

"You shouldn't kiss on the mouth," said Horatio, thoroughly grossed out. "My friend Ricky Mickle says that's how you get germs."

Severus cocked an eyebrow. "And Ricky Mickle is the expert, is he?"

"Kissing gives you germs. Now _that's_ the story the Prophet should be printing," joked Hermione. "People deserve to know."

"Now _you_ know," said Horatio. He carried his plate and fork to the sink and headed up to his bedroom, the one he shared with Henry, to begin his home-schooling.

Once he was out of earshot, Severus pulled Hermione into his lap, cupped her face with his hand, and kissed her – a long, loving, germ-swapping kiss - which she heartily reciprocated. After fifteen years together, they were still more in love than either of them ever could've imagined was possible back when both were broken, alone, desperate and hopeless.

"I meant it, Hermione. Every year on this date, all I can think is how grateful I am to you. You could have let me die. No one would have blamed you for letting me die. And for years, I wished you'd let me die. But now, I can't believe I ever felt that way. I cannot fathom life without you. Thank you."

"No need for thanks, Severus," Hermione whispered, stroking her husband's cheek, wishing she could make him understand how very much she loved him, and how grateful she was for him, too. "We're even, aren't we? I saved you and you saved me... and, as Hamlet says in his final speech to Horatio, 'the rest is silence.'"

She kissed him. He apparated them upstairs to their bedroom. She charmed the door locked. He charmed the room for privacy's sake.

They tumbled together onto the bed, quickly divesting each other of their clothing, both aware she would indeed be late to work that morning.

And the rest was silence.

 **LIGHTS OUT**

* * *

 **A/N:**

It appears we have reached **the end!**

I apologize, but the tag I had initially planned (the original epilogue I wrote when I first started this fic) no longer fits the story, no matter how much I tried to force it to, so I cut it and absorbed the important info into the epilogue above, which means this fanfic is officially **COMPLETE!**

I had a few requests to write a **sequel** to it or a companion fic from Delphini or Narcissa's point of view, and I considered it, but honestly I liked wrapping it all up and don't think I have anything of substance to add, so I probably won't. But I might end up posting a couple of one-shots set within this fic in the future if a plot bunny attacks.

About **Lucius** \- in my original epilogue, he finally got his comeuppance in the form of a mutual roughing up by Severus and Hermione followed by an arrest for reasons I had to really stretch to make realistic, but as I kept writing, I stopped moving in that direction. It didn't ring true. I honestly feel that Lucius Malfoy is the sort of person who gets away with things, who slinks off like a snake and returns later and makes himself better and stronger than before, thus I decided the ultimate punishment for him was to be simply forgotten. His wife moved on with Siobhan, Hermione and Severus lived happily ever after, Draco raised his son away from Malfoy Manor until after his father's death, he never managed to get back on the Hogwarts Board or have pull at the Ministry again, and he died basically a disgraced former-somebody. I hope none of you calling for his head are too disappointed by that. (If it helps, **Reginald** eventually died in Bella's cell in Azkaban, having long claimed she was haunting him into insanity.)

 **Moving on...**

I need to share my **inspiration** for this fic with my gratitude. First, to Disney's new live-action  Beauty & The Beast starring Emma Watson, which made me want to write Hermione/Snape. Then, Shakespeare's line from Hamlet, "When sorrows come, they come not in single spies, but in battalions," which caught my ear when watching Helena Bonham Carter play Ophelia in a 1990 version of the tragedy, and finally, to The Golden Girls, that classic '80s sicom starring Betty White and Bea Arthur, because there is an episode in which Rose (not the brightest bulb) is supposed to drop off the 'Seeking Employment' ad of roommate Dorothy (the smart one) at the newspaper office, and accidentally submits it to the Personals, thereby telling the world Dorothy "will do anything for $8 an hour." It got me thinking about what would happen if someone put an ad like that in the Personals on purpose out of desperation, thus the first chapter of When Sorrows Come came to be.

 **Most importantly...**

 _ **I am ridiculously grateful for all of your support!**_

So many of your reviews gave me ideas or prompted me to fix upcoming chapters that I hadn't even realized had issues yet. Your questions made me think, "Oh, damn, did I answer that?" and "Ooh, what a great idea!" (to those reviewers whose ideas I incorporated with your permission and while giving you credit, I thank you again!). And to lilikaco, who said she would ship Narcissa and Siobhan, I owe you thanks too, because I'd wanted to go in that direction but was afraid it would be ill-received and your comment made me decide, "Okay, yes, I'm doing this." I couldn't thank you in-chapter at the time like I did with others without giving away a spoiler. Speaking of spoilers, Garnet, you asked so many questions and made such spot-on predictions in some reviews that I felt like you must be a Legilimens! It was killing me not to respond!

 **Thanks and cheers** to my regular multi-chap reviewers, who gave a ton of feedback: HarryPGinnyW4eva (for your section-by-section chapter reviews), RhodaBush (for being first to comment on many chapters), Harry Hobbit (for sticking with another fic featuring a ship you don't ship - lol), lilicako (for responding to every chapter, in detail!), sunny day (even though you don't like Hermione), Helikesitheymikey  & Garnet & dmeb & Thorn & traveltotheend & thewinnowingwind & SheLitAFire & cloudshape to ennien (you all left such lovely, detailed reviews!),plus PopularCats, RainCityWriter, elizabethrose1974, purplehedgehog13, haveyouseenmyprefectbadge, sassanech, sevslave1, FrancineHibiscus, lunarose87, Twihardkristen-once, surugasasa, ShannaSnape, Megan13, The Blind Apprentice, worrywart, marzipan4, browni'dbrunette, arizonadaydreamer, CinderSpire793, lunarose87, Myracle-Wryter, Sassyluv, DutchGirl01, Viola1701e, DaisyChain2109, Sedgehammer (so many of you responded to nearly every chapter, which I love! I looked forward to seeing your usernames in my notifications).

And to all those who also reviewed, whether it be to one chapter, five chapters, ten chapters, or twenty, letting me know your thoughts and reactions, **thank you times a thousand!** I appreciated every single one of you and every single review: Andthetonygoesto (Annika!), HenriettaV (love the name!), IDeliverDismalEndings, Mira, Freak of a Fangirl, MoraDreamWeaver, Moonlit Glitter, jmullinax, desidiriam, snazzieshazzie, caitlin dunne 12, Gg10679, Professor Severus Tobias Snape, fifiotoole, Elphaba8387, gerrylynner, 09sasha, btterflykiss69, HallowRain8587, bournespeed, catsgotmytongue, OnyxObsidian, MayP, tsuki-shiroi, millydown, Karli1252, Luna826, iron-on-maiden, Lunne Lunnaris, Sweet Trufflepuff, IbelieveinSnape, CameronSister, naughtycat, mirpyfaces, ihatedunderheads, ConstanceV, LunaJen323, Frenchie84, AdeliaMaggot, Sakura Lisel, Calindy, lightjourney, jlove34, JM2010, APieceOfPie4Everybody011, Karinepira, Concrete63, Tonixx, SexySlyDevilxxx, KSMack, Stephanie, CupcakeMerderer, Scarecrowsgirl2016, Zedoc, Megan13, Mayhem Call, Calimocho, JaneDoh0, ninaaaaa, MHS1986, vickety, crankypants16, LoveInTheBattleField, Makaco, Vadimmom, nads31, fallenangel36910, Scaleybark, Jace, Zabe18, Midnight Lilly, Cat130, Jesserella, Baskina, Kira-Chu-Alana, TheLadyBookworm, Rabbidreader, SectumSemprae, frog8590, CharD, Asterix Tutnix, chattympc, Kika, LazyByComparison, ndavis77, Lena2244, CountessBlack, LadySnape89, FrancineHibiscus, lilyevans12681998, Davey Dorko, C, clarasnotlikely, Vani12, cares 1970, SallyDog3, Mikailah, TheFoundersDaughter, roon0, TheSlytherinWitch, Liz556, EmilyWood, Halle Alexis, M, surugasasa, Thegirlintheboat, mione-draco123, Hello, TopazPeridot, CyBr3, kmuscutt23, decadenceofmysoul, CameronSister, coloa, rivruskende, Anon, and each and every guest.

I'm even thankful to those who left honest but negative reviews or who shared their genuine reasons they couldn't keep reading, including gahmeep (sorry!), sanbeegoldiewhitey, and even Jenna... plus I'm a little proud because after over 20 years of writing fanfiction, 14 on this site, I attracted my first real trolls with this fic! I won't share their names and I deleted their anonymous flames full of curse words and personal insults (and one attempted link to a porn site!), but it was kind of fascinating all the same - I feel honored! lol ;)

(As an aside, if you previously reviewed and I missed you above, please don't be shy - let me know! I'll edit. I'm sure I'm bound to have missed a reviewer or two and I'd feel terrible if anyone felt slighted because of it. Also, if you have dots in your username, ffnet tends to delete the name, so you might have disappeared.)

 **A huge happy thank you** to the 280 people who have added this fic to your favorites and to the 638 readers who are following. I've never had such high numbers for one of my fics on this site before, and possibly not on any site before, thus this was really quite thrilling!

For the next few months, while I'm knee-deep in the agent-led editing process and going out on submission (always stressful) for my first Middle Grade novel (previously I wrote YA), I'm unlikely to write any long, involved fics like this one, but I'll probably pop in with short fics and/or one-shots, including some HGSS (I already have a new idea that I'm trying to ignore!). Also, to those who write **HGSS** and whose stories I'm following, I'm going to go catch up now! It's hard for me to read in the ship I'm currently writing. If you're looking for a fic that redeems Lucius, Fragilereality's ongoing  Masterchef (HGLM) is one of my current faves, for something different, Kerrymdb's SSNT fic The Forgiveness Within is one of my longtime faves, and for a shorter finished piece, mrs. milfoy's Hospital Beds (SSNM) is fascinating. Or you could check out my Augury Origin fics, including Wanting Narcissa, which has a few character-traits in common with this one because they're part of my (SS, BL, LM, & NM) headcanon. And if you think you know of any fics I should be reading, preferably featuring Snape, Narcissa, Minerva, or Bellatrix, feel free to send me a msg!

 **Thanks again.** This has been my most personally satisfying fic thus far and I have truly enjoyed writing it, in great part because of the responses from you.

 **-Amandah Leigh (AL)**


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